What If Racing Towards Destiny
by restive nature
Summary: This story, is just an offshoot of what might have happened in my other story WiC. One dream set her on a path of destiny.
1. Wakeup Call

Series Title: What If...

Fiction TItle: Racing Towards Destiny

Chapter Title: Wake-up Call

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 to R

Chapter Rating: PG-15

Genre: Crossover

Type: Romance, Angst

Pairing?/ Max

Summary: One dream set her on a path of destiny.

Spoilers/ Timeline: This story would begin in Chapter 17- Coming Of Age, when Max had her first Heat dream.

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first, please

A/N: This story, while being in the same universe as WiC, does not actually occur within that storyline. This fiction is just an off-shoot of what _**might**_have happened.

**Chapter One**

**Wake-up Call**

_Max tried to read over what she had just written, but the words made no sense. They swam and blurred before her eyes. She heaved a sigh, fidgeting in her seat. Wearily she raked a hand through her sweat damped curls. She glanced over at the radiator, sweetly silent. How then, if the heat wasn't on, was she so overheated? She felt something nudge her leg and lost her train of thought. Her eyes were fixated on the jean clad leg that was pressed against her knee as she sat cross-legged on the sofa. The leg jiggled again, perhaps naturally agitated from having sat still for so long._

_The assignment that Max had been working on fled her mind as she stared at his leg. They really were very nice legs, having seen them when he was moving around in the morning, or at night before bed. Once or twice when he had kicked off the covers on the bed or left his thigh exposed. Muscular with a tantalizing sprinkle of hair. Max sucked in her lower lip, chewing on it as her breath came erratically. In her mind's eye, she traveled up his body, the bed covers pushed down to his waist, his chest misted with a fine sheen of sweat, his usual t-shirt discarded because of the heat. _

_His leg jiggled again and her concentration broke. This time however, feeling a blush creep into her cheeks, her eyes darted to his face. She was stunned by the impish smirk he leveled at her. Her heartbeat picked up, her breathing was even more ragged. Deliberately, he bumped her leg again, his smirk softening to a gentle, inquiring smile. Max's lips curved into a grin of their own and she nudged him back. The book in his hands was dropped carelessly to the side and he reached up to trace a tendril of hair that curled its way down her cheek. He waited just a fraction of a second before sliding his hand into her hair, cupping the nape of her neck. She swayed towards him and then his other hand followed the first and then his lips were upon hers. _

_Max felt her insides shiver at the first electrical contact. His lips were smooth and warm and pliant upon hers. Her eyes drifted shut and her hands came up to grasp his forearms. Slowly, he brushed his mouth back and forth against her, making her flesh tingle. And then his left hand moved back and she could feel his fingers tracing her jaw. At the same time, his tongue had darted out, running against the inner contour of her upper lip. Max tried to stifle the unexpected gasp, but it came anyway. He used it to his advantage, sliding his tongue into the cavern of her mouth. Intrigued, she responded in kind, moving into him. He tasted of peppermint, hot, sweet and spicy. Her heartbeat picked up even more as her world narrowed to this small focal point. Nothing existed beyond the sofa they were seated on as his mouth slanted over hers, his hands moving to her back. Their kiss did not break as he slid one hand down, catching her thigh and tugging forward. Knowing what he wanted, wanting it too, Max shifted her legs, leaning forward to untangle from her seated position. She managed to finally swing her leg over his lap. _

_She settled herself lightly; the knowledge of what was coming was hovering tantalizingly in the corner of her mind. But he knew exactly what he wanted. Breaking off their kiss, his hands still at her hips, he stared at her, her new position putting them on a fairly equal footing, height wise. He grinned again and pulled her hips forward._

_The contact was unanticipated, but Max had no trouble discerning the bulge that was pressing against the inside of her thigh. Eyes widening with delight, she wriggled and he groaned. His hips thrust upwards, just scant, bare inches, but the contact against her was enough to make her echo his frustrated sentiment. Shifting again, Max leaned into another kiss, while his hands pulled at her hips, demanding closeness. Max grabbed at his shoulders, wanting and needing, running on instinct. Her head fell back as she felt him cup her still burgeoning breasts. Her nipples tightened and she groaned again. His lips nibbled down the pale column of her throat as he whispered huskily, "God I want you so bad Max."_

_Her answer was immediate. "Oh yes. Yes Sam!"_

Max hid herself away in the bathroom. The Winchester males were finishing off the pizza that Dean and Sam had brought back. She hadn't been hungry and had picked at the slice John had given her. When she had finally pushed it away and excused herself, John had given her a sympathetic smile and made no protest. Thinking of him made her recall the words that he'd spoken to her earlier. What had happened, her dream, it had been no big deal. That had been a relief. But still, to think of Sammy that way! Of course, maybe it had sort of made sense. Especially with the way John had been explaining. Her body was changing. So was Sam's. She'd noticed that. He'd rapidly lost that last vestige of childhood pudge that she'd noticed on some other kids around their age. And he'd had a growth spurt again. And ever since they'd stopped attending public school, they weren't spending so much of their time being inactive. They were out and about, constantly doing things. And whenever he could, Dean had taken them to YMCA's, local gyms and the like to work on their fighting skills. When that wasn't available, he'd take them swimming. It was nothing like back at Manticore and Max found that she enjoyed it. Even doing the required laps that Dean wanted before he allowed them some down time wasn't so bad.

Max, as she began to run water for a bath, remembered the last time they'd gone swimming. They'd persuaded John to join them. He hadn't really wanted to, but Dean had appealed to his competitive nature by bragging that any one of them could beat John in a race. John had given in and thought it over very carefully. He knew from watching them previously, that Max was at home in the water as anywhere else. He always teased her after swimming that she must be part fish or dolphin. And Sam, still in that male adolescent, gangly, awkward phase, had found his grace in the water. His long legs were a bonus. So therefore, John had challenged Dean, figuring that they would be more evenly matched. They had the similar build of body and good endurance. In the end, Dean had won, but only by the span of an arm, which John laughingly had attributed to Dean's more recent bouts of practice.

That had been a fun day, Max had mused. The boys had teased John about his outdated swimming trunks, causing him to blush. They had teased Dean about getting distracted by all the pretty girls. They had enjoyed watching a lifeguard sucking in his gut every time a certain lady was close by. The boys noted in an aside that their father was over twice that guy's age and had a much better physique and that if they ever got that way, to shoot them.

Max pondered that for a moment as she disrobed and slipped into the warm water. Undeniably, all three Winchester's were in good shape. For ordinary guys, that was. And Max had noticed women noticing them. There were soft looks and appreciative stares, even when Dean and John were at their roughest, with messy hair, gravelly voices and five o'clock shadows. She chewed at the corner of her lip. What was it that had made her dream about Sam and not them? It had to be proximity. They were the only males lately that she knew well. But why Sam?

Maybe as John had said, it all had to do with the natural changes in their bodies. And Dean and John hadn't changed since she'd met them. But Sam had. He'd changed a lot, emerging from his boyhood phase, now a young man with a more defined musculature and feature that were seeming to become more adult than they should be. Max blushed as she realized that once again, she was thinking about Sam more than she ought to. Max sighed. There was only one thing she could do. Chalk it all up to emerging hormones and just put this thing out of her mind.


	2. Occupational Hazard

Series Title: What If...

Fiction TItle: Racing Towards Destiny

Chapter Title: Occupational Hazard

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 to R

Chapter Rating: PG-13

Genre: Crossover

Type: Romance, Angst

Pairing: Sam/ Max

Summary: One dream set her on a path of destiny.

Spoilers/ Timeline: This story would begin in Chapter 17- Coming Of Age

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first, please

A/N: This story, while being in the same universe as WiC, does not actually occur within that storyline. This fiction is just an off-shoot of what _**might**_have happened.

**Chapter Two**

**Occupational Hazard**

She tried. Putting forth all her energies into not thinking about Sam just hadn't been worth it. Being around him all the time had kept him there. And of course Sam, not knowing, nor John and Dean that it had been Sam she had dreamed of, expected her usual behavior. And as she hadn't avoided Sam before, she couldn't do so now. In the end, she'd taken to making busy work for herself. Which was why she was out in the motel parking lot, changing the oil on the Impala. Well, not changing it, since Dean and Sam had walked down to the parts store to get the filter for it. She was draining the oil to get Dean started. And speak of the devil, she could hear and Sam returning.

"I'm just sayin' Sammy," Max could hear the laughter in Dean's voice. "She was cute and she was flirtin' with you for all she was worth."

"Yeah, well, unlike you," Sam's voice was long-suffering and slightly snide, "I'm not inclined to jump into bed with any woman who winks at me."

"I swear you're gonna die a virgin," Dean sounded amused and exasperated. Sam made a noise as well, but Max, unable to see him, was not able to decipher it.

"You've done it?" Now Dean sounded amused and impressed. "When? And who?"

"It's none of your business Dean!" Sam snapped.

"Oh come on," Dean snorted. "I'm just trying to figure out when the hell you had a chance… Did you sneak out some night?" His voice was filled with warning of an imminent butt chewing if that were the case.

"No! And leave it alone." Sam snarled.

"Come on Sammy," Dean was teasing again. "Oh don't tell me it was some… I mean, she was at least cute, right?"

"Dean!"

"It's no big deal Sammy," Dean chuckled. Max had stilled as she was, the screwdriver poised as she'd been trying to pry loose the fitting. She was beginning to feel lightheaded from holding her breath.

"Oh fine," Sam snapped and broke. "It was a few months ago. That girl at the library, Melissa."

"Oh yeah," Dean crowed. "She was a cute little thing. So what'd you do? Sneak off to the copy room?"

"No!" Sam sounded disgusted and slightly… bemused. "Um, we went to her house."

"No way!"

"Yeah." Remember, the computers weren't working? Well she offered to let me use hers at her house and then, you know, one thing led to another and then…"

"That's my boy!"

'Oh shut up Dean!"

Their voices faded away and she heard the motel door slam shut. Max inhaled shakily, realizing suddenly that her face was wet and her fingers felt numb. It wasn't until something splashed on her face did she realize that she was bleeding. The screwdriver had slipped and gouged across her palm of the opposite hand. Mechanically she scooted out from under the car and sat up, staring stupidly at the free flowing stream of crimson liquid.

"Hey Max!" she heard Dean call as he re-emerged from the motel room. "Did you get the filter loose? It can be a real pain in the-! Oh hell! What happened?" He'd come around the car and saw the blood. He dropped to one knee, pulling towards himself the damaged hand that she'd been cradling. His concern for her evident as his eyebrows furrowed together as he quickly inspected the gash.

"The screwdriver slipped," she whispered, dismayed by a fresh onslaught of tears.

"Yeah, I see that," Dean murmured. Quickly he located the roll of paper towels, intended for wiping greasy hands and tore off several squares. Scrunching them up, he applied the wad to the cut, curling her fingers around it, helping her to apply pressure. "Come on," he instructed softly, catching her under the elbow of her uninjured hand. "Let's go inside and take care of that. It looks deep."

Obediently, Max stood and let Dean lead her to the room. The door was ajar and he pushed it open, calling out, "Dad! We need the first aid kit!"

"What happened?" John demanded, already heading for the bag that contained their supplies.

"Max cut herself," he replied tersely. He nudged her into the bathroom and down onto the closed toilet seat. Max, unable to look at any of the males faces, lest they see something more than the natural distress of personal injury, stared at the red blooming on the white paper towels. "Keep your hand elevated," Dean instructed and Max obliged.

"Ah," Sam hissed in sympathy, standing in the doorway. "That looks like it could be nasty."

"Let's just hope she doesn't need stitches," John muttered dryly, coming alongside Sam, carrying the kit. He passed it along to Dean, who set in on the narrow counter and began to rummage through it. "It's a little crowded in here," he noted, patting Sam on the shoulder. "You got this Dean?" His eldest nodded, still removing what he would need. 'We'll clear out then." John decided and moved away. Sam threw Max a sympathetic smile, which she didn't see and then he moved back to what he'd been doing before.

In the bathroom, Dean had torn open one of the wet wipes that they'd purloined from several restaurants. They were handy to have in a situation like this one. At the same time, he reached behind Max and plucked several facial tissues from the box situated on the toilet tank. He held them out for her and she took them in her free hand with a sniffle.

"I'm sorry," Max hiccupped. "I don't know why I'm being such a baby."

"Shock," Dean replied easily as he squatted before her, using the moist towelette to mop of the almost dry blood that had trickled down her arm. He glanced up at her face and gave her a reassuring grin. "Most people don't expect to cut themselves open."

"I suppose not," she murmured in agreement. She was silent as Dean continued to clean her off, wiping her eyes once more. They both knew that it was best to wait several minutes before checking the wound, so that her body could work its magic. Finally Dean deemed that enough time had passed and he pulled Max's hand down to have a look. Sure enough, the bleeding had slowed to a trickle. Carefully probing, Dean tried not to hurt her, but it was fairly unavoidable.

'Well, good news," Dean announced finally as he reached for a bottle on the counter. "It's not deep enough for a trip to the hospital."

"But?" Max asked, knowing from his expression that something was coming.

"Bad news," Dean sighed as he unscrewed the cap from the brown bottle, "I think there's still some dirt in there. Move your hand," he instructed, pointing to the sink. Max obliged, knowing what was coming. "This might sting," Dean warned, though unnecessarily. "Feel free to yell. Or," he glanced around, "maybe not. The echo in here, it'd burst my eardrums." That managed to get a weak chuckle out of her and seemingly satisfied, Dean began to trickle the hydrogen peroxide over the wound. She hissed as it bubbled through the wound, attacking and reacting to the debris inside. Dean winced in sympathy, but kept it up until she was sure that the wound was clear.

After a moment to let it air dry some, Dean continued his ministrations, muttering under his breath as he performed each action. "Antibiotic ointment… four by fours and now some Curlex. Hold the tape for me." Max watched as he expertly wrapped the palm of her hand, looping her thumb and wrist with the stretchy gauze, then twice more around her palm before he anchored it with a piece of tape across the back of her hand.

"Well," he smiled down at her. "Could have been worse, right?"

Max nodded. Yeah, she could have been stabbed through the heart literally instead of just figuratively.

"Dean?" Max asked, finally looking away form the book that she had not been reading for the last hour. Her brother grunted, not bothering to glance away from the television set. Max wondered if maybe it would be easier to ask her question if he wasn't looking at her. "Can I ask you something? Without you laughing at me?"

"Depends on the question," he joked back automatically.

"I'm serious Dean," Max groaned. His eyes flickered towards her, as if gauging the sincerity in her desire to have a real conversation with him. He seemed a little more serious as he nodded.

"Shoot," he commanded, dropping his eyes to the cheesy beef nachos resting on one thigh.

"What's the big deal about sex?" Max demanded. The suddenness and nature of the question surprised Dean and the platter of nachos bobbled when his body twitched. After taking a moment to recover both food and nerves, he glanced at his sister's inquisitive face.

"Where's this coming from?" he mused, slightly off-kilter. He wasn't surprised to see her flush slightly. He sighed. "Well, sex is… it's for the perpetuation of the species," he announced, as if that was the totality of it. But judging by her annoyed grunt, that wasn't the answer she was looking for.

"I know that!" Max snorted. "What I meant was… what's the big deal? Why do guys think about it so much?"

Dean stared at her suspiciously. "Has some little punk been trying to-!" He demanded but Max was already shaking her head.

"No!" Her flush deepened and she dropped her eyes once more to her lap, her fingers fiddling with the edge of her bandage, nervous. "I just… I heard you and Sam talking yesterday," she whispered. Dean frowned for a moment and then realized what conversation she had to have been referring to.

"Oh," he sighed. He should have realized, but of course, he hadn't known that she had been under the car until later. If he'd known, he would have saved the teasing for another time. "Didn't you and Dad talk about this?" he demanded. Max shook her head.

"No, it was um… more… uh… girl stuff."

Dean choked a little and then smirked. Yeah, he knew that. If his own conversation with his father was anything to judge by, then he knew his father's answers would have been absolutely basic and getting answers about certain stuff was like pulling teeth. Dean drew in a deep breath. Why and how on earth did he get stuck with the hard questions?

"isn't there anyone…?" he began to ask, but realized that honestly, there wasn't really all that many people in Max's life that she could talk to about this. Honestly, the best person was currently living in Montana, but Dean frowned. Maybe for Max, talking to Molly was like him talking to John. Okay for the same gender stuff, but opposite sex stuff? That was pure speculation. And also, Molly and John were older, a different generation. Kids just didn't want to contemplate grown-ups being sexually active.

"Okay," Dean sighed again as he moved the nachos from his lap. He wasn't surprised that he suddenly wasn't hungry. He turned to face Max, leaning an arm on the back of the sofa. "Why do guys think about sex so much?" he asked of her, clarifying the point of her curiosity. Max nodded, "Well, before a guy actually does it for the first time, it's the same thing as you. They're curious."

"Yeah," Max frowned. "But it's like; don't studies say that guys think about sex like ten times more than a woman does each day?"

It was Dean's turn to frown. "I don't know about that. But you know it kind of makes sense in a way."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, for guys," Dean scrunched up his face as he tried to figure out a way to explain to her without getting too technical. "Look, you know that girls tend to mature faster than boys, right?" She nodded. "Well, the thing is, you can- uh… see a girl maturing. Girls don't really see a guy maturing. You know what I mean?" He was sure that she did since she'd quickly crossed her arms over her chest. Not that he'd been looking. Max nodded her eyes thoughtful and her mouth lifted at the corner into a smirk.

"Unless of course it's someone like Donny Wiederman," she giggled suddenly. Dean had to think a moment before he recalled the name.

"Oh yeah," he laughed, remembering the incident back in Geraldine. Poor little seventh grader, Donny had been trying to impress one of the ninth grade girls. It might have worked if the socks he'd stuffed down his pants hadn't made a sudden reappearance out the cuff of his jeans, right in the middle of lunch. After their laughter subsided, Max grew serious again.

"So what about after?"

"Well," Dean exhaled heavily. "I guess people and not just guys, but people still think about it 'cause its… physically satisfying."

Max took that in. "What about… well, when you're in love?" she whispered. "Is it better?"

Dean had to smile at that. "Probably," he answered, nodding. She looked surprised. "What?" he demanded.

"You've never been in love?" she asked of him softly.

"Nope," his answer was swift and ready. He knew surely that whatever feelings he might ever have had didn't come close to real love. After all, he lived every day in the embodiment of true love driving them onwards. But all the same, he had to laugh at her perturbed expression. "Oh come on," he sputtered. "I'm not sayin' I hated the girls I've… you know. I just didn't really get to know them to find out if I could've felt that way."

"Oh," Max seemed satisfied. There was a long moment of silence and Dean figured that he was done, was just leaning to reach for his nachos when… "Dean? What's sex like?" Thank God he wasn't eating, because he definitely would have choked. "Because Justine's cousin told me that it was like scratching an itch. And I thought that was stupid, because you don't need someone else to scratch an itch for you. I mean, you need another person to actually have sex, right?" Dean winced under the onslaught of her words. Oh Lord, he really didn't want to get into that realm with her. This one was already uncomfortable enough. "Or maybe she meant like an itch in the middle of your back. You know? And you can't reach it and it just keeps getting itchier and itchier until it's about to drive you mad and then finally someone comes along and helps you and…" she trailed off as she seemed to realize that Dean was pinching the bridge of his nose. "Dean?"

He kept his eyes shut, wondering how the hell he could answer that. He sighed. There really was no good way for him to answer, except… "Actually Max," he began softly. "I've heard people say that too. Scratching an itch. It's like I said. Physically satisfying. Like eating a hot fudge sundae. It's good too, but in its own way. See what I'm saying?"

Max was thoughtful again. "So basically what you're saying is that scratching and eating are completely separate sensory experiences that can achieve the same generalized outcome." He smiled at the technical jargon, but nodded. "And that sex," she continued, "is also its own unique experience. But-!"

"But the thing is," he interjected before she could get going again, "is that it's different for everybody. For example," he smiled as her eyes grew wide, "look at the way our family eats hot fudge sundaes."

"Dad doesn't eat sundaes," Max protested automatically. Dean had to bite off the 'exactly!' that jumped to the tip of his tongue, because he didn't want Max making too many inferences at this euphemism.

"But Sammy, he eats most of his ice cream first, so that he has all that fudge at the end. And you like to make sure that each bite has a little bit of fudge on it."

"And you like to swirl yours all together and have sprinkles," Max grinned.

"Oh yeah," Dean chuckled. "But see, if you asked someone what we were doing, they'd say we're just…eating sundaes. See?"

"So what you're trying to tell me is that sex is an experience that's different for everyone and you can't explain how it's good, you just know deep down that it is," Max drawled. Dean rolled his eyes and ruffled his sister's curls.

"Yes brat, exactly. Now, anymore questions, or can I go back to my TV and nachos?"

"Just one." He waited. "How will I know when I've met the right guy to… you know?"

Dean tried to hold back a scowl. Of all the questions, this was the most serious and most definitely the one that had to be handled with kid gloves. Because the wrong answer could be disastrous in more ways than one.

"Honestly Max," Dean groaned, "ask him to wait." Her lips pursed in protest, but Dean rushed on. "I'm serious Max. If you ever meet a guy that you really like, a guy you want to… then ask him to wait until you're ready. Because most guys? They'll say anything to have sex. But if a guy is willing to wait and I mean really wait, not just say that he can wait and hen keep trying to change your mind, then that's a guy worth getting to know." He stared at her, any embarrassment, any pretense of annoyance with her questions, it was all gone. "Can you promise me that you'll do that Max Promise me you'll wait until you're absolutely sure?"

Max searched his face and then a small embarrassed smile touched her lips. "I promise Dean," she vowed, and then leaned forward and planted a small kiss on his cheek. "Thanks," she whispered and then bounced up from the sofa to grab her book and retreat to the bed. Dean slowly reached for his nachos and the remote. A proud glow suffused him, eclipsing the absolute embarrassment and discomfort he'd felt during the conversation. He was quite certain that he'd gouge his eyes out with spoons before he ever endured that again, but as he settled down to watch and old 'Bewitched' rerun, he couldn't help but feel like the most awesome big brother in the world!


	3. Silent Treatment

Series Title: What If...

Fiction TItle: Racing Towards Destiny

Chapter Title: Silent Treatment

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 to R

Chapter Rating: PG-13

Genre: Crossover

Type: Romance, Angst

Pairing: Sam/ Max

Summary: One dream set her on a path of destiny.

Spoilers/ Timeline: This story would begin in Chapter 17- Coming Of Age

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first, please

A/N: This story, while being in the same universe as WiC, does not actually occur within that storyline. This fiction is just an off-shoot of what _**might**_have happened.

**Chapter Three**

**Silent Treatment**

"What's bugging you little brother?" Dean demanded as he flopped down next to Sam on the ratty second hand sofa that graced their old friend Bobby's living room.

"Max," Sam replied succinctly, his gaze never wavering from watching her out the living room window. She sat, leaning back against the tire of Bobby's tow truck, cross-legged with Rumsfeld's head in her lap. The puppy had been her constant companion the entire day. And Max barely noticed. She just sat, staring vacantly at her surroundings.

"What'd she do?" Dean asked, also glancing out the window.

"Nothing," Sam sighed. Dean waited, but no mischievous wrong doing or annoying little sister diatribe followed.

"That's it?" he scoffed. "She's sittin' out there petting the mutt and you're getting what… paranoid?"

Sam spared a moment to throw his older brother an aggrieved look. "It's not that Dean," Sam groaned, knowing that his older sibling could blow things out of proportion in a nanosecond if not seriously reined in. "What I meant was…"

"Was what?" Dean asked, slightly amused as Sam paused to find the words. Sam frowned again, mulling over things in his mind and then switched tactics.

"Has Max said anything to you?" he asked suddenly of his brother, turning to address him. The instant pensieve look on Dean's face prompted further explanation. "Is she mad at me? Did she say…?" burst out of Sam suddenly, not realizing that the bewilderment on his face was a clear indicator of how much the idea distressed him. It cut short the smart assed retort that Dean had been about to make.

"No," Dean replied shortly, glancing out the window again at the girl. "Why would you think that she's mad at you?"

Sam shrugged one shoulder awkwardly. "Well, she doesn't talk to me," he recounted. "And she's been avoiding me for like, the last few weeks. I mean, did I do something?"

"Not that I can think of," Dean grunted. He continued to stare, mulling, watching now as Bobby appeared, said something to Max and she pushed Rumsfeld away and stood. "You know," Dean spoke slowly, "if something's bugging her, maybe it has nothing to do with you." Before Sam could reply, John stuck his head into the room.

"Grubs up boys," he informed them before retreating back into the kitchen. Dutifully the boys rose and followed after him. Max and John were already seated at the table and Rumsfeld was whining at the door.

"Have a seat boys," Bobby directed, stirring a ladle through a stew pot. Sam, with Dean's last missive on his mind, saw a way to prove to his older brother, the point he'd been trying to make. He darted ahead of Dean and snagged the empty seat to Max's right. Dean rolled his eyes and took the nearest empty chair, leaving Bobby the last free seat on his right, next to John. But it wasn't anyone's imagination that had put the sudden frown on Max's face. Just as Bobby was turning from the stove and setting the stew pot on the hot pad in the center of the table, Max pushed her seat back from the table, but remained seated.

"Um, I'm not really hungry," she announced, directing her words to John. "May I be excused?" The older males looked startled, but Sam threw Dean a _'see what I mean' _look.

"Are you sure?" Bobby drawled, dishing up a bowl for Dean."It's chili."

Max smiled tersely but shook her head.

"Are you feeling okay?" John asked, all concerned parent.

"I'm okay. Just feeling a little tired," Max tried to assure him, but he was already in full swing, laying the palm of his hand against her forehead.

"You're a little warm," he noted, frowning. "Have you taken your pills today?" Dean forced a cough and once he'd caught Sammy's eyes, tilted his head in a manner indicating _'see, it could be something else,'_. But Sam's eyes darted back to Max.

"First thing this morning," she informed their father. "But…" Just to appease the concern he was showing for her, she stretched out, took the glass of milk before her and gulped it down. After she'd set the empty glass back down and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, she turned to John and he nodded.

"Okay. Why don't you go lie down?"

She nodded and as she stood up, Rumsfeld gave a playful yip. "No, go lay down Rummy," Max instructed as she pushed in her chair back under the table. As she skirted around the furniture, Bobby, who had continued to ladle out the chili, threw her a smile.

"I'll save you some darlin', just in case you get hungry later."

"Thank you Bobby."

"And if you don't, I'll eat it," Dean joked.

Max paused long enough to lean over Dean's shoulder and hiss mockingly," touch my chili and die!" She flicked her finger against his temple, and then fled before he could retaliate. Laughter followed her as she made her way out of the kitchen.

"Ah settle down boy," Bobby teased as he finally took his seat. "I made enough to fill that hollow leg of yours."

"That's only if you can get past that bottomless pit he has for a stomach," John smirked as he dug into his own bowl. Dean and Sam laughed at the elder men's verbal antics, but neither's hearts were in it. As John and Bobby continued to make fun of Dean's prodigious appetite, Dean caught the look of misery on Sam's face. The kid was right. She'd fled as soon as Sam had gotten near her. She'd talked to everyone but Sam. Hell, even the dog got more attention than Sam had. Maybe there was more to Sammy's assertions than Dean cared to admit. Knowing though that there wasn't anything he could do at that moment to help, he applied himself to his food and coming up with some ideas.

Once the meal was over, Dean quickly volunteered himself and Sam for clean up duty. John seemed a little surprised, but took advantage of the offer so that he and Bobby could resume their ongoing gin rummy tournament. Once Dean was sure that they were occupied and after accepting a stack of bowls from his younger brother, told him in low tones," you should go talk to her."

"Yeah, like I haven't tried that before."

"Well she's in the bedroom, unless you think she'd jump out the window to avoid you."

"At this point," Sam snorted, "I wouldn't put it past her."

"Well all you can do is try," Dean stated blandly as he began filling up the sink with water and suds. "And don't worry, I got this," he motioned at the table.

"Thanlks Dean," Sam grinned. Dean sure had his moments. Sam moved down the hallway, wondering if he was letting himself in for some trouble. He stared at her door, vaguely aware that amazingly, no one was paying attention to him. Wasn't that just typical? Taking a deep breath to fortify himself, Sam raised his hand to knock. But he had to pull himself short when the door was yanked open suddenly before his hand connected. Max's startled face swung up to his and her eyes went even wider.

"Um-!"

"Max, can we talk?" Sam asked quietly. He shifted his hip to lean against the doorframe, blocking her as she tried to edge past him.

"Cam it wait Sam? I need to…" and she pointed in the direction of the bathroom.

"No Max, it can't," he frowned, striving to keep his tone low and even. She swallowed heavily, her eyes darting past him.

"Sam I… really don't feel well!" she blurted out suddenly. She elbowed her way past him and dashed into the bathroom. Sam felt like a heel once he understood that most likely, at that moment, whatever was bugging Max was less important than whatever bug had her. Groaning inwardly, he turned around and shuffled back to the kitchen.

"That was quick," Dean commented as Sam joined him at the sink, picking up a towel to dry with.

"She's sick man… and not the way you're probably thinking," Sam muttered, picking up a glass.

"Great," Dean groaned. "That's just what we need." But he brightened after a moment. "Well at least she'll have a harder time avoiding you now. Although I highly doubt you'll want to corner her while she's heaving her guts out."

"Thanks so much for that lovely image," Sam grimaced.

"Oh cheer up," Dean snorted. "Maybe she'll feel better tomorrow.

"Yeah," Sam agreed quietly. "I guess I'll just have to talk to her in the morning."


	4. Driving Away The Demons

Series Title: What If...

Fiction TItle: Racing Towards Destiny

Chapter Title: Driving Away The Demons

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 to R

Chapter Rating: PG-13

Genre: Crossover

Type: Romance, Angst

Pairing: Sam/ Max

Summary: One dream set her on a path of destiny.

Spoilers/ Timeline: This story would begin in Chapter 17- Coming Of Age

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first, please

A/N: This story, while being in the same universe as WiC, does not actually occur within that storyline. This fiction is just an off-shoot of what _**might**_have happened.

**Chapter Four**

**Driving Away The Demons**

Sam didn't know what woke him, but he was pretty ticked off when he rolled over in his sleeping bag and realized, if the clock was right, that it was barely six o'clock in the morning. He blinked sleepily as a small thump sounded. And it seemed to be coming from the room that Max was occupying. Concerned, he began to shimmy out of the bag, wondering if she still wasn't feeling well. She'd spent a long time in the bathroom the evening before. No one had really been concerned when they had heard the shower start up. After that, she'd returned to her room. John had checked on her, taking her water and crackers. A while had passed and curiously, she'd emerged to take another shower. She still hadn't spoken to anyone, though everyone was getting worried about her. But there were no seizures and no more excursions outside her room.

Sam reached for the jeans that he'd worn yesterday since they were still fairly clean. He rifled through his open duffel bag and found a clean, untorn t-shirt. Just as he was pulling it on, he heard a door creak open. He stilled, letting the material drop into place on its own, waiting with baited breath to see if she was coming into the living room where he, Dean and John were bunked down. But no, she crept through the hallway, completely dressed, even her coat and boots, carrying her helmet under her arm.

Sam swore silently as he realized her intent. Dropping to his knees, he quickly dug out some socks and jerked them on. Inadvertantly, he ended up kicking his brother's shoulder. Dean jerked and grumbled in his sleep. Outside, Rumsfeld gave a small welcoming yip and Sam heard Max admonish the dog to keep quiet. Hurrying, so that he wouldn't miss his chance, Sam kicked at Dean's arm again. Grudgingly, one eyelid opened and peered up at him.

"Dean," he whispered, leaning over his brother. "Max and I are going for a drive, okay?"The eye shut and his older brother mumbed something and then he rolled over, once more oblivious. Sam mentally shrugged and jumped up. He hurried into the kitchen, glancing hopefully out the window. With relief, he saw that she was tugging Rumsfeld by the collar towards the doghouse. Glancing around at the heap of outer wear piled by the door, he spotted a spare helmet and yanked it from the pile before creeping out of the house. She was probably going to chain the puppy up so he wouldn't try to follow her as he had done before. As soon as Sam rounded the corner, he knew his assumption was correct. She had stuffed the dog into his abode and was attaching the chain to his collar. The puppy gave another short bark when he spotted Sam.

"Hush!" Max whispered harshly. "You're gonna wake everybody up."

"A little too late for that," Sam announced quietly, smiling slightly as Max gave a little jump, spun around on her heels and stood, her hands held defensively.

"Oh Sam! What are you doing?" she screeched and then clapped a hand over her mouth.

"I should be asking you that," he smirked as she flushed and lowered her hand.

"I'm going for a ride," she announced, darting around him, heading for her bike. She was proably hoping to get there first and get gone. But with his long legs, he was able to keep up and slid onto the bike behind her, just seconds after. "Sam! What the hell are you doing?"she shrieked.

"I'm going with you," he replied laconically.

"You weren't invited," she retorted.

"So I have bad manners," he grunted, shifting a little to settle in comfortably. Max reacted like she had been scalded. She jumped off the bike so quickly, it began to tilt until Sam regained balance, planting his right foot firmly on the ground.

"I've changed my mind," she announced defensively. Sam lifted one eyebrow. Carefully watching her, he reached forward and plucked the key for the ignition and held it up, the key chain loop sliding down his index finger, to dangle securely.

"Then you don't want to forget these. Never know when someone might come along and just take off with your bike." The helpless yet guilty indignation that crossed her face had him fighting a smile. But the mulishness and the sense that she was about to take flight again wiped the merriment from his mind. "Max, I just want to know what I did," he pleaded, dropping his hand to rest dejectedly on his leg. "Why you're mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you," she protested automatically.

"Well then why have you been avoiding me?" Sam shot back.

"I haven't!"

"Yes you have," Sam argued. "Max, can't we just tallk?"

"There's nothing to talk about Sam," she whimpered, unable to meet his eyes.

"Yes there is," Sam persisted, now leaning towards her. "And no matter what, I'm going to keep bugging you until you tell me. And there won't be anywhere that you can hide from me. And you won't be able to use Dad or Dean or Bobby as a buffer, because everyone knows that somethings wrong between us." For once in his life, Sam didn't even feel remotely guilty for the little white lie. Only Dean knew and his knowledge of the situation was even more sketchy than Sam's. But it seemed to work as Max threw a nervous glance over her shoulder towards the house. Several emotions that Sam couldn't rightly name were flitting through her eyes. Finally she returned to the bike and threw her leg over the seat.

"Fine. Let's ride," she barked.

With a sigh, Sam reached forward, dangling the key for her to grab. She inserted the key into the ignition and turned it enough to release the brake. Understanding that it was her intent not to wake the others by starting the motor, Sam helped with pushing the bike while she steered them towards the open gate in the chain link fence that surrounded Bobby's yard. Once they were a decent distance down the road, Max started up the engine and drove on. Nothing was said as Max drove aimlessly down the highway. Mainly because they'd have to shout to be heard over the wind and the engine. But also because Max was devoutly sticking to her preference of avoiding Sam in any way that she still possibly could. And Sam, because he just didn't know what to say.

After they'd passed through their third town, Sam began to wonder if she planned on ever returning to Bobby's. He knew that they'd have to stop eventually or else run out of gas. Sam had never been riding on Max's bike for so long before. He was finding that the chilly, snowy March day was not ideal weather to be riding around in. He knew that it was pointless to hope that Max would stop. She was going to keep riding until she'd rode out her personal demons. As he huddled closer to her, trying to suck up some of her seemingly inexhaustible supply of body heat, he wished fervently that he had brought along some gloves. His hands twitched reflexively at the thought and the next thing he knew, Max was jerking the bike to the right, running them off the road.

She pulled to an abrupt halt near a small crop of trees lining the ditch. The engine wa still running as she leapt off the bike, moving away at a fast clip. Stunned, Sam automatically shut the engine off, pocketed the key and knocked the kickstand down before he hurried after her. Now he finally might get some answers, since it seemed like she was at a breaking point.

Max had made it to the trees and was leaning into one, her forehead pressed against the frozen bark. Sam reached out a hand to catch her elbow, to pull her around to face him and have whatever this was, out.

"Don't touch me!" she shrieked, spinning around. Sam saw her fist coming and his only saving grace was the slick snow beneath his feet. The intended blow glanced off his shoulder as his feet slipped out from underneath him. He fell on his ass and the momentum carried him the rest of the way. They stared at each other, mouths hanging open in shock. And then Max stepped forward, falling to her knees. "Oh Sam! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to-!"

"What the hell is the matter with you/" Sam grunted, the refrain sounding tired to his ears. He'd asked it so many time lately without getting an answer. He wasn't sure that he wanted one anymore. If anything, he wanted to be able to ignore her, like she so easily ignored him. Except, now there was a tear hovering at the outside corner of her eye and he felt like a little bit of a heel. He knew better, had been taught that you didn't manhandle women, not even your own sister. And grabbing a pissed off Max was like an open invitation to getting your ass kicked. "Max I-!"

"I just wanted you to leave me alone," she cried out, cutting across his intended apology. "But you're always there. And it's driving me nuts. And I can't think, I can't sleep, because it's not going away. It should go away, but it doesn't because you're just there!"

Sam stared at her, shocked as she ranted at him, her face, her eyes haunted with frustration. But before he could reply, before he could even begin to sort out why she wanted him gone so badly, her hands had fisted in the material of his jacket, yanking him upwards. His hands covered her feebly, unable in the few second available to him to decipher what was happening.

And then her lips were slanted across his, hard at first and then softening after a moment. It felt like everyting in the world slowed to a halt and just fell away and then she was gone. Sam stared at her, wide eyed as she sat back on her heels and she slowly realized what she had done. Her hands stole up to her face, her fingertips covering her lips as her face scrunched up. Sam barely heard her whispered apology through the thrumming of his heart pounding in his ears. Everything that had just fallen away came back with a vengeance. And Sam felt as if he'd come alive with an amazing jolt, waking to find his fantasies fulfilled, his dreams come true.

He reached for her, marveling at how right this felt. Even her muffled protest in form of his name as he hauled her to him, twisting her so that she landed in his lap could not dim the swelling of emotion through him. Her hands braced against his shoulders as if trying to keep him at a distance, perhaps fearing a dreadful retaliation, but that was the furthest thing from his mind. He cupped her face, drawing her forward gently, his thumbs brushing against the curve of her cheekbone. He pressed his lips to hers, pleading silently for her not to pull away again. Her hands stiffened on his shoulders and then to his utter relief, relaxed as the rest of her body followed suit, melting into him.

His hands moved to hold her snugly against his torso. Her lips parted beneath his and Sam's eyes fluttered shut as thrill after thrill chased through him. Their tongues met and joined in a frenzy of taste and exploration. All Sam knew was that everything was finally okay. All the times that he'd chastised himself for watching her when she slept, all the times he'd watched her in the morning, parading around in her short nightgown or tank top and short shorts, it was all okay. For all the times he'd had to bunch up the covers first thing in the morning to hide the physical evidence of a night spent dreaming of her, all the times he'd sat so close, yearning to hold her, it all fell away. For all the hours he spent, castigating himself because he wanted so badly to hold her in a non-familial way, it was all right, because now he knew that she wanted it too.

But he needed reassurance, to make sure that he wasn't still just dreaming, he pulled away. Her eyes followed, looking up at him shyly, a little line of confusion marring her forehead.

"So this," he croaked, his throat tight, "this is what's been bothering you these last few weeks?"

"Years Sam," she corrected him drily and his eyes widened once more. "Years," she whispered and this new discovery was shunted away as she gave a small laugh and kissed him again.


	5. Escaping Winter's Hold

Series Title: What If...

Fiction TItle: Racing Towards Destiny

Chapter Title: Escaping Winter's Hold

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 to R

Chapter Rating: PG-13

Genre: Crossover

Type: Romance, Angst

Pairing: Sam/ Max

Summary: One dream set her on a path of destiny.

Spoilers/ Timeline: This story would begin in Chapter 17- Coming Of Age

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first, please

A/N: This story, while being in the same universe as WiC, does not actually occur within that storyline. This fiction is just an off-shoot of what _**might**_have happened.

**Chapter Five**

**Escaping Winter's Hold**

A horn honking gave them a split second of warning, but it wasn't enough as a passing car blew through a small drift of snow across the highway. The speed with which it passed blew the granules through the air and like they were magnetized, the mini-gale centered around Max and Sam. The pair broke apart, each with a startled gasp. And then Max shrieked and jumped to her feet, her entire body shimmying.

"It went down my back!" she gasped . Sam leapt up as well, swiping the snow from the back of his neck and moving forward to help Max. While she tried unsuccessfully to rid the snow from where it had slid down the gap of her clothing, Sam brushed it off her hair and arms. After a moment, she paused, looked up at him and began to giggle. Sam's lips quirked as he waited to see what was so funny, but she only reached up and brushed the flakes that had remained on his own head even after his sudden movements.

He chuckled as well, at how ridiculous they must look, but it ended as Sam noticed her shiver. He caught one hand and jerked his head towards the bike.

"Why don't we go find some place to warm up?"

"That sounds good," Max sighed longingly. Pausing only long enough to pick up their hastily discarded helmets, they headed back to the bike. Sam handed over the key before climbing on behind Max once more. Placing his hands at her waist, he smiled when she tugged them further forward, wraping them securely around her middle.

"It'll help if we share body heat," she explained, throwing a smiling glance over her shoulder at him.

"Yes ma'am," he replied cheekily, scooting forward to close any gaps present. Max started up the bike, checked the traffic and pulled a U-turn to head back into the town that they had so recently passed through. Sam kept his eyes open for a café or something. Both he and Max were shivering violently and it dawned on him that what they really needed to do was get out of their wet clothes. Suddenly, he spotted a place that seemed ideal. He pulled one hand loose, tapping Max's arm and when she turned her head slightly, pointed and she obligingly turned off the road. She pulled into a parking lot and shut off the bike.

"A motel?" she asked, her teeth chattering.

"Yeah," Sam replied huskily, then cleared his throat. "Well, it's private, we can get out of these wet clothes, take hot showers… and they usually have those complimentary coffee packs."

"Well when you put it that way, lead the way," Max nodded. Sam held the main door open for her and they both approached the counter. No one was present, so Sam rang the small bell situated on the countertop. A middle aged woman, still in her morning wrapper, emerged from a small back room, leaving the door ajar. From there, they could hear the muted sounds of a national morning talk show.

"Can I help you?" the woman asked, pulling her robe snugly around her thick middle, making sure that the belt was pulled tight.

"Yeah, hi," Sam began, attempting his most appealing look. "I was wondering if there was any way we could get a room for a few hours?" The woman glanced back and forth between them suspiciously. "See, my sister and I were passing through, riding her motorcycle and just outside of town, we slid on some ice, went right through a snowdrift." The suspicion began to fade to sympathy. "Luckily, she wasn't going very fast."

"Oh, you weren't hurt, were you?" the woman clarified. "I've always thought the city should have chip-sealed that road before winter came on. We've had more accidents out there this winter than in the last decade combined."

"No, we're not hurt ma'am," Max assured her and then frowned. "Well, except for my pride. I just marred my perfect driving record."

The woman smiled softly at that. "Well, we don't really rent rooms by the hour."

"Oh we can pay for the whole time," Sam assured her, reaching for his wallet. The woman immediately reached for a check-in slip.

"I'll tell you what," she decided, "if you only need it for a few hours and can be out by check out time, eleven o'clock, I can give it to you for half price."

"That sounds wonderful," Sam sighed, handing her his credit card. They hurriedly went through the motions and the woman kindly gave them the room nearest the office, even though the buildings weren't adjoined.

Max and Sam hurried over to it. Both were shivering violently nonetheless from going from the warmth of the office back out to the freezing cold. Sam's hands were shaking as he opened the door. They darted inside and once there, both shucked their coats and footwear. And then stilled as a sudden awkwardness fell between them.

"Um, you go ahead," Sam offered gallantly. "I'll uh…" He spied the radiator and hurried over to it, turning te dial up as far as it would go.

"Don't be silly Sam," Max chided, though he could definitely hear nervous undertones. "You're just as cold and wet as I am." She turned and strode into the bathroom, leaving the door open behind her and he could hear her fiddling with the fixtures and then the shower came on.

"Max we-!" Sam protested, even though he felt like his bones were beginning to ache. The radiator had started humming, but he knew it wouldn't heat up the room as fast as he would like, or need.

"Sam would you just get in here!" Max called impatiently. "We can just… I don't know… keep our underwear on. I mean, it's not like we haven't each seen that much when we've gone swimming and stuff."

That was true, Sam conceded silently. It was very true. And with that, he capitulated, stripping the clammy t-shirt from his body as he moved towards the bathroom. As he entered the tiny room, he saw that Max had done the same and was now struggling with her sodden, skintight jeans. His mouth went dry as the material finally gave way with a little wiggle of her hips. The white cotton material of her underwear was also wet in places and typically see through, giving Sam glimpses of shadowy indentations of what lay beneath the surface.

Pausing only to peel off her dry socks, Max tossed them aside and climbed into the tub. He heard her hiss as he worked his own, not so tight jeans off.

"You okay?" he called.

"Yeah, it wasn't hot enough yet. It's better now."

Sam laid his jeans across the sink counter and pushed off his socks and quickly padded over to the tub. He pulled back the shower curtain to the rear of the bathtub and hesitantly climbed in. Max was standing completely under the spray, her arms wrapped around herself, still shivering slightly. Opening her eyes, she smiled again shyly. Sam shivered, feeling the mist of the spray reflected off her body. Noting this, Max reached out one hand for him. The action revealed even more of what he'd seen before and when she noticed where his gaze was wandering, she flushed and chuckled ruefully.

"And now you know why I didn't buy that white bathing suit."

"Um, yeah," Sam blinked rapidly. As he did so, Max caught his hand and pulled him forward, shifting to the side so that she could get him under the spray. Sam groaned when he felt the sting of the heated spray. But almost immediately, he noticed that Max was back to shivering. He turned so that his back was facing the tiled wall and pulled Max to him. That way they were both getting at least some of the heat.

"Better?" he asked. She snuggled in closer in response, wrapping her arms about his waist, turning her head away form the spray, to rest her cheek on his chest. Though his whole body reacted to her closeness, Sam chose not to pursue it, instead he just reveled in his contentment, stroking his thumbs along her shoulder and upper back. Soon enough though, he realized that the far side of their bodies, away form the spray, was still pretty chilly. He pulled at her left side.

"Here, turn," he instructed. She obliged and together they turned to warm the other side of their bodies. But instead of reverting to her earlier position, she leaned her head and shoulders back so that she could look up at him. There was no mistaking the emotion flitting through her eyes and when she tilted her chin up, his was already descending. There was no clash, but a gentle meeting, soft and slow exploration until Max shifted a little, her hip rubbing deliberately, or not, Sam wasn't sure, at his erection. He gasped at the exquisite friction of the wet fabric on his skin. He inhaled deeply, unable to rein in his bodies instinctive reaction, to feel that pleasure again. He felt and heard the low moan that ran through Max as she repeated the movement. He opened his eyes to see her eyelids fluttering, her lips parted and he framed her face with his hands, kissing her once more. With more than a little regret, he pulled away from her, but was buoyed by the confused pout that came instantly to her.

"We should get out," he whispered. "The water's not so warm anymore."

"Okay," she nodded. "Um…"

"I'll get the towels," Sam decided. "That way we can get out of our… um…"

"Wet things?" Max finished for him with a smirk. He nodded once and smiled.

Quickly, and again regretfully, he climbed out, locating the towels on the shelving unit over the toilet. Glancing at the shower curtain, he quickly shed his boxers and wrapped a large towel around his waist, anchoring it as securely as possible. As he was reaching for more towels, he heard a wet slap and grinned, realizing that Max was shedding clothes as well. He hung two towels over the towel bar and then took a smaller one to apply to his hair.

"Max, your towels are hanging up on the bar," he called.

"Okay," she responded at once. "I'll be out in a minute." Sam left the bathroom, shutting the door securely behind him, giving her privacy. Noting that the room was much warmer than when they'd first entered, Sam bent over to retrieve his shirt. He carried it over to the radiator, glad that it didn't seem as wet as he'd originally thought it had been. Wondering how long they'd been in the shower, he glanced at the digital clock nestled on the nightstand. They stil had a few hours before check out time. He laid out his shirt, close to the radiator and then recalled that he'd left his most definitely wet jeans in the bathroom. He'd just have to get them after Max had emerged. Glancing arounf the fairly Spartan room, he found, as he'd promised Max, a small four cup coffee percolator and coffee basket lined with essentials. Brightening at the prospect of a hot drink, he began preparing it, glad when he heard the shower shut off. But still, the coffee was brewed and Sam had taken a seat on the nearest bed, the styrofoam cup held between both hands before Max emerged. In her hands was a bundle of clothes.

"I wrung everything out," she announced as she approached the radiator. She spread out the clothes, including Sam's jeans.

"I made coffee," he told her. He was surprised to see that she hadn't wrapped her hair in a towel, even though it appeared fairly tousled.

"Thanks, but I'm not really thirsty right now," she murmured, straightening out a pant leg. She then padded across the carpet to take a seat next to him. Up close, he could see the flush of heat the hot shower had imparted to her body, giving her face and throat and chest a soft, rosy glow, accenting her body and putting him in mind of a ripe peach. He took a nervous sip of coffee and flashed her a small, tight grin, trying to keep his body from reacting to her nearness as he had before.

"Sam," she whispered.

"Yeah?"

He heard her slowly pull in a deep breath and felt her exhalation whisper across his bare arm. Reaching forth, she plucked the Styrofoam cup from his hands and stretching further, placed it back on the counter near the percolator. Sitting back, she shifted around to face him, her knees up on the bed, though her ankles were primly crossed. Still, the towel gaped at mid-thigh and Sam determinedly fixed his gaze at the abstract design of the comforter on which they sat.

"Sam," her voice was soft and trembling. "I… I want you. And I think… I hope, that you want me too?"

"Wake up!" John grunted, shaking his son's shoulder again. Damn it! The boy was worse than a hibernationg bear. "Hey! Don't make me get a bucket of ice water!"

That finally penetrated and Dean's eyes finally opened. He immediately squinted against the morning light, his father an indistinct figure emblazoned by a nimbus of lighting around his body.

"Wazit?" Dean mumblewd sleepily.

"Max and Sam are missing." That announcement brought the young man scrambling to complete awareness, though something was tickling at the back of his mind.

"What? What time is it?"

"It's after nine," Bobby informed him. Dean began to scramble out of his sleeping bag.

"Are you sure they're gone?" he asked, glancing at Sam's abandoned sleeping bag.

"Sam's not here, Max's room is empty and they're nowhere around. And Max's bike is gone," John recited harshly. The last words were the catalyst that Dean's brain needed and he stilled his panicked frenzy to locate his wayward siblings.

"Huh," he grunted. "Guess it wasn't a dream."

"What wasn't?" John demanded.

"Oh, Sam woke me up this morning," Dean explained, now reaching for his duffel bag. "Said he and Max were going for a ride."

"Well when was that?" John snorted, even more exasperated. Dean shrugged.

"'Bout six or seven."

"Well what on earth are they gallivanting around on that bike in the middle of winter for?" John sighed. Again, Dean shrugged. He glanced up at Bobby, still leaning casually in the entryway to the living room.

"Coffee on Bobby?" he asked of their friend.

"Course it is," Bobby snorted. Dean quickly dressed, assuring his father, "don't worry about it Dad. They're just working some stuff out."

"What stuff?" John asked suspiciously, following Dean into the kitchen where his son retrieved a mug and poured himself a generous measure of coffee.

"Well in case it's slipped your notice," Dean drawled, seating himself at the table, "Max has been avoiding Sam for the last few weeks." A short spurt of silence followed that pronouncement.

"You know," Bobby sighed, "now that you mention it, I guess I did notice that. Just thought she was leavin' him alone to let him study."

"Well what's the problem?" John asked, now calmed somewhat as to the problem. Dean shrugged one shoulder.

"Don't know. Sam tried to talk to her last night, but of course, she wasn't feeling well. So he was gonna try again this morning. Guess they decided to go find someplace more private. Probably didn't want you old gossips sticking your noses in." As Dean sat smugly listening to Bobby and John protest his slur, he knew he wouldn't bother telling them that he hadn't noticed the problem either until it had been pointed out to him.

"… just hope they don't kill each other," John was saying.

"Oh don't worry Dad," Dean chuckled. "If I know Sam, they're probably holed up somewhere private, drinking frou-frou coffees, getting all touchy-feely with each other."

John smiled and nodded. Yeah, Dean was probably right. Worry fell away as Bobby crossed to the refrigerator, intent now on breakfast.


	6. Burning It Up

Series Title: What If...

Fiction Title: Racing Towards Destiny

Chapter Title: Burning It Up

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 to MA

Chapter Rating: PG-15

Genre: Crossover

Type: Romance, Angst

Pairing: Sam/ Max

Summary: One dream set her on a path of destiny.

Spoilers/ Timeline: This story would begin in Chapter 17- Coming Of Age

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first, please

A/N: This story, while being in the same universe as WiC, does not actually occur within that storyline. This fiction is just an off-shoot of what _**might**_have happened.

**Chapter Six**

**Burning It Up**

"You... I... what?" Sam sputtered. Her directness had obviously surprised him and in a way, awed him. She'd always been a blunt and forthright person, but he was just amazed that she could be so... brave at a time like this. To just take that chance and risk it all. Seeing the flush on her cheeks deepen, he chuckled. "Um, I guess it's pretty hard to hide that fact," he answered deprecatingly, knowing that she'd noticed the physical evidence as they'd held one another with barely any clothing acting as barriers. Just as he'd noticed certain signs from her. When she realized what he was saying, she laughed as well.

"Well yes, that's obvious, but I meant..." she paused and chewed on her lower lip nervously for a moment. "I like you Sam. I more than like you. And I want to be with you so badly, its driving me crazy." The last words were a whisper, but Sam understood. It was the same for him. She had ducked her chin, her fear of rejection governing that much of her. Sam reached out, catching her chin with his finger and thumb, pulling gently until her eyes met his.

"Hey," he smiled softly. "I more than like you too." His admission put the smile back on her face and she scooted closer to kiss him. His hands trailed down to her shoulders as she rested hers on his thighs. He kissed her slowly and thoroughly, trying to imprint her taste in his senses and she responded in kind. After what seemed like forever, he pulled away.

"Sam?" she asked as he leaned back.

"Max," he sighed. "I do want to be with you, God knows how much I do. But the thing is, have you really thought about this? Are you sure? Because if you aren't, I can wait..." Her confusion had suddenly morphed into a beatific smile that transformed her face from within. "What?" he asked, unable to help smiling in spite of the puzzlement he felt.

"Oh, just Dean," she answered enigmatically as Sam's brow furrowed with a small spurt of anger and no small amount of jealousy.

"You're thinking about my brother?" he cried out incredulously.

Max giggled. "Not like that!" she protested laughingly. "It's just... I asked him a long time ago, you know, when I'd know it was the right time..."

"Oh," Sam was minorly reassured. "What'd he say?"

"He said to wait," Max shrugged and her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. "But it occurred to me, that there's no reason to keep waiting. I know you, I love you, we enjoy spending time together. We have a lot in common. I wanted to find the perfect guy... and he's been right here with me all along."

Sam exhaled, the feeling of exhilaration at her words, soaring through his body again. "You think I'm perfect?" he asked, his tone hopeful.

"Perfect for me, yes," Max teased.

"Ah," Sam chuckled. "Well I think you're amazing. And I love you too."

"Well then that's good," Max breathed out shakily, as if she'd been hoping for a similar admission from him, which Sam was only too happy to give. "So? No more waiting?"

"No," Sam agreed fervently. "No more waiting."

They met again with another kiss, but the hands he'd so desperately held back before, had no trouble reaching for her now, drawing her body to his. She came to him eagerly, settling herself in his lap, her hands resting against his upper arms. She was crosswise against him and Sam held her outside hip snugly, pressing her against his lower body while his other hand tangled in her still damp curls. As their mouths caressed each other, their tongues stroking, Sam wondered at the ease of it all. He liked her, she liked him and now here they were. How did his life get so perfect, so quickly?

Sam groaned softly as he felt Max's hand drifting lower, tickling lightly against his stomach. He flinched reflexively and she stilled and something flashed through his mind. "Oh wait Max, hang on," he murmured, pushing her back. She stared up incredulously at him and he smiled reassuringly. "I have to grab something... from my jacket." She frowned for a moment and then her face brightened and she stood up gingerly.

"Yeah, that would probably be a good idea," she murmured shyly. Sam stood as well, bypassing her and skirting the edge of the bed. He moved to retrieve the jacket he'd thrown on the foot of the bed closest to the door. Fumbling through the pockets, he finally found what he was searching for and withdrew his hand. He dropped the jacket and turned back to find that Max had climbed under the covers and folded back a corner on the opposite side, a very clear invitation. Sam shuffled between the narrow gap amid the two beds, placing the necessary items on the nightstand.

"Two?" Max asked, sounding amused. Now it was Sam's turn to blush.

"Ah, well, Dean always told me to be prepared and uh... carry back up, just in case..." he trailed off as Max giggled.

"That's a good point," she nodded. And, laying on her side, she reached over, lifting up the covers for him. Sam could see the shadowy indentation of her breasts under the sheet and knew that she must have removed her towel. He hesitated for only a moment before he flicked his own towel to the floor and hurriedly climbed into the bed. He scooted closer to her, facing her, but left a small space between them, determined that she would be able to set the pace. He was worried, scared, of rushing her, even though she said that this was what she wanted. He wondered if she too were experiencing the same kinds of worries, things running haphazardly through her mind.

"Nervous?" he asked softly, catching up the hand that was still above the covers. The other was tucked under her head.

"No. Well... a little, yeah," she admitted. "You?"

Sam nodded. She made a face at his honesty and Sam caressed the slim fingers he held before entwining their hands. "Well, the first time for a girl... can hurt. And I don't, you know, want it to go too fast for you."

"No that wouldn't be good," Max groaned. "But Sam, I know its supposed to... um, be uncomfortable at first. I just... I think we're over thinking things. I mean, everything so far has been good. Can we just keep doing what feels good and let it happen?"

Sam mulled it over for a moment. She was right. This wasn't a time when analysis was going to help. "Just as long as you tell me if... if you want me to slow down... or stop. Or whatever you need." It came out soft and husky, but she understood. Her own fear of doing something wrong, or of hurting him was just as plain as his.

"Only if you promise the same," she demanded gently.

"Max," Sam grinned as he scooted another inch closer, "I can about guarantee you that I'll never want to stop with you." His lips met hers in a chaste kiss as he drew the blanket up, pulling her arm underneath it. It took only moments before her mouth opened under his, her hand once again resting on his chest. Sam, knowing that he was the more experienced of the pair, albeit not by much, was aware that he'd have to lead. And while they'd both received sex education thanks to the public schooling, it didn't encompass every single experience. Still admonishing himself to go slowly, Sam drew Max to him a masculine pride that he never knew he possessed roaring within him because _he _would be the one showing her this pleasure.

Many long minutes later the couple stared into one another's eyes, awed by the strength of the new bond they had formed. As soon as his body allowed him to relax, Sam turned his face to her. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, tired and sated. "Didn't mean to..." How to apologize for hurting her when it had been a necessary act. But she seemed not to have noticed. Her eyes were alight with depths of these new wonders. She brought her hand up to cup his cheek.

"Oh Sam!" she breathed out. "That was amazing! I never thought... Oh I love you so much!" She pressed her mouth to his, tender and delighted and he was filled with the amazement she already knew.

It had been good. Rough and ragged, yet beautiful in its own way. Sam smiled as he broke away from her, dropped a kiss on her nose and simply said, "I love you too Maxie."


	7. Back To Normalcy

Series Title: What If...

Fiction Title: Racing Towards Destiny

Chapter Title: Back To Normalcy

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 to MA

Chapter Rating: PG-13

Genre: Crossover

Type: Romance, Angst

Pairing: Sam/ Max

Summary: One dream set her on a path of destiny.

Spoilers/ Timeline: This story would begin in Chapter 17- Coming Of Age

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first, please

A/N: This story, while being in the same universe as WiC, does not actually occur within that storyline. This fiction is just an off-shoot of what _**might**_have happened.

**Chapter Seven**

**Back To Normalcy**

The telephone ringing into the unspoken silence that pervaded Bobby's kitchen, startled all three men. Carefully setting down some weaponry that he'd been helping to clean at the table, Bobby rose from his seat to answer the phone. "Yeah," he said, then paused to listen. Dean and John waited a moment, keeping quiet for sake of politeness, since it was likely that the phone call was business of one sort or another. "Oh, anybody hurt?" he questioned, which was followed by some more 'uh huhs'. With a glance at each other, the Winchester's decided that it must be a call for Bobby's towing service. "Okay, see you in a couple of hours then," Bobby nodded and then hung up the phone. But instead of retrieving his things and heading out to a call, he resumed his seat at the table.

"That was Sam," he announced and immediately had their full attention. "They're okay," Bobby reassured John, even as the other man was opening his mouth to ask.

"What happened?" Dean demanded. Bobby picked up some pieces he'd been wiping down, about ready to re-assemble them.

"Sam said they ran into some trouble on the road. Not an accident," he hastily assured John. "Sam said something about a snow drift. Anyway, they got soaked, so they headed back into town to find some place to dry off, warm up, have some coffee. And they're heading back right away." The Winchester's took a moment to think about this.

"So, did they get things settled between them?" Dean asked as he continued his work as well. Bobby shrugged.

"Didn't say," Bobby frowned. "Sounded pretty happy though."

Dean and John shared another glance. Hearing that, they figured that the kids must have worked things out, at least a little Knowing that there was nothing left to say or do until the kids got back, work resumed all around, albeit with a little less stress.

"Did you get through?" Max called out to Sam from the bathroom.

"Yeah, I did," Sam called back as he he slid his calling card back into his wallet. Standing, he replaced the wallet in his back pocket.

"Oh shoot!" Max cried out.

"What's the matter?" Sam asked, concerned.

"Oh I hate to ask you this Sam," Max sighed. "Are you dressed?"

"Yeah," Sam grunted suspiciously, glancing down at his jeans and shirt. "What did you need?"

"Can you possibly run out to the bike and grab my extra kit from under the seat?"

"Uh sure," Sam was puzzled as to why she needed it and then decided that as she was where she was, maybe he didn't need to know. "I'll be right back."

He found the little, zippered, black nylon bag, precisely as she said, in the hollow of the seat, where it lifted up to provide storage for just these things. He'd left the main door ajar and hurried back into the warmth. He knocked at the bathroom door, which opened immediately.

"Thank you," Max smiled, accepting the bag and offering him a kiss. "How much time?" she asked, referring to their appointed check-out time.

"Fifteen minutes," he told her. She nodded and retreated once more. Sam busied himself by checking around the room, that they had everything they'd come in with. It wasn't much, but it helped pass the time until Max was finished with her ablutions after her second shower.

"Darn it!" he heard and smiled ruefully.

"What now?" he asked as calmly as he could, trying not to sound aggravated, because really he wasn't. He was more bemused than anything. She emerged after another moment, her bag tucked under her arm, toweling her hair dry.

"The ends are still wet," she complained.

"Well maybe we can stop somewhere and buy you a hat or a scarf," Sam suggested reasonably and then flexed his hands. "I suppose I better get some gloves while we're at it."

"Or you could just snuggle up to me, I'll keep you warm," Max teased, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. Sam tugged her close for yet another kiss.

"Yeah, I like that idea. But we better get going." He let her loose and gentlemanly helped her with putting her coat on. He understood why she left her hair tucked inside. Quickly she sat and pulled on her boots, before taking his hand to stand. He handed her her helmet and riding gloves, made one last sweeping glance of the room, picked up the key from the table and followed Max outside. As he pulled the door securely shut, he noticed her give a slight shiver. "And now you know why Dean always tells you to never go out in the cold with a wet head. "

"That guy again, huh?"Max retorted dryly, linking her hand with his as they strolled toward the motel office. "You know, for being an insufferable, annoying, know-it-all jerk, he actually does give out decent advice."

"Most of the time, yeah," Sam agreed.

"We should get him something!" Max declared suddenly.

"Like what?" Sam laughed, letting go of her to open the office door.

"I don't know," she shrugged.

"Well what about us?" Sam asked, noting that the woman from earlier that morning was not seated behind the counter. "Check out," he murmured, sliding the key across to the man. The guy checked his clock, nodded, took the key and bade them mechanically to have a good day.

"What about us?" Max asked, resuming their conversation as they headed for the parked Ninja. That was a very good question, but not one that Sam wanted to broach right then and there.

"Well, don't we deserve something for having the good sense to follow Dean's advice?"

"Mm," Max nodded as she slung her leg over the bike and scooted forward so that Sam could do the same. "I already have everything I need," she teased, "but I suppose a little treat wouldn't hurt. Why don't we figure it out when we gas up?"

"Sounds good to me," Sam replied and then pulled on his helmet. He adjust the strap, wrapped his arms around his girl and they were off.

It didn't take them long to reach the gas station. But as Sam stood beside Max, he couldn't help but bring up the topic looming over them.

"What are we going to tell them?" he asked softly, no need in clarifying the _them_ that he meant.

"I don't know," Max sighed, her voice just as soft. "Dad'll flip out."

"And Dean," Sam added. He let out a heavy breath. "So do we not say anything? Because it'll be torture. Ten times worse than before."

She nodded her agreement. "Well," she hedged suddenly, "maybe we can ease them into it slowly. Sort of get them thinking in that direction."

"And how would we do that?" Sam scoffed. "Dad and Dean tend to need anvil type hints."

"Yeah, I guess," Max groaned. "But anything more than that would probably bring on coronaries."

"I know. But I'm not seeing any other way," Sam sighed, momentarily defeated. "I guess we'll just have to figure it out as we go. Maybe keep it to ourselves for a while."

"And that'll be easy," Max snorted derisively.

"Well," Sam grinned, hooking his arm around her waist and pulling her closer, "we did just make up from a huge something or other. That ought to cover some generous goodwill, for a few days at least."

"True," Max wrinkled her nose up at him, "but good will only goes so far."

"And speaking of that," Sam began gently, leaning back with her against the concrete half-wall partition, "what, um, set this whole thing off? I mean why was it so much worse than before?"

Max shook her head, her grin widening. "Remember when Rumsfeld got in the house?" Sam nodded, recalling that day very well. "And we were chasing after him and I finally caught him?"

"But then he got away and ran between my legs," Sam continued. "Knocked me off balance."

"And you fell on top of me," Max tilted her head to the side shyly. "And uh, well, no matter what I tried, I couldn't stop... thinking about it. And, well I started ignoring the incident and that sort of morphed into ignoring you and it was just... easier."

"Ah," Sam hummed under his breath. "I couldn't stop thinking about it either," he admitted. "But you not talking to me? That's what drove me absolutely crazy."

"I'm sorry Sam," Max apologized softly, her face full of consternation. Sam caught the edge of her coat and pulled her even closer. He kissed her gently, pushing a stray curl back from her forehead.

"It's okay Maxie," he murmured. "It turned out all right in the end, didn't it? Or at least I hope it will."

Max tilted her chin up and offered another kiss, neither one wanting this spell between them to break. But reality intruded, as it always did, as a car, waiting for a turn at the pump and unable to turn around in the limited space to get at the other side, honked briefly at them. Max reluctantly pulled away and rolled her eyes. "Better go pay for this," she muttered. Sam let her loose and busied himself returning the nozzle to the pump, and then pushing the bike out of the way. The woman in the car that had honked at them, gave him a wave and pulled in. There was an apologetic look on her face, as if to say _yeah, I remember what it was like to be young and in love, but now I've got errands to run._

Sam snorted ruefully at his imagination and trailed into the convenience store in Max's wake. He found her at the display of winter wear, debating over the scarves. Just as he stepped into place beside her, she dropped the red scarf she'd been holding, back to the shelf, retaining the blue, his favorite color. "Were you still going to get some gloves?" she asked and Sam nodded. While warming his hands holding his girl while they rode was a pleasant idea, they'd both noticed that the wind tended to gust up the gap between his arms and underneath her jacket and that was not at all pleasant. He quickly chose a pair of cheap, all-purpose black gloves. He just needed warmth for the ride back to Bobby's. When they got to the cashier, the guy teased Max about being back so soon, since she had paid for the gas immediately upon entering the store, so that other customers wouldn't have to wait on her. She bantered back about the lure of the merchandise. Sam noted that they still hadn't gotten anything for Dean. Max shrugged and pointed out that they still had two more towns to go through, they'd think of something.

The pair breezed into Bobby's well after one o'clock in the afternoon, both of them carrying bags. Their arrival had been well announced by Rumsfeld's spate of excited barking. Dean and John gathered at the kitchen window, wondering if the unexpected war between the youngest Winchester's had trickled down to a cease fire or if peace had been restored. But judging by the smiles as they greeted the overenthusiastic puppy, it seemed that all was well. The males stepped back from the door, as the kids entered, taking care that Rumsfeld didn't get in.

"Hey," Sam greeted them cheerfully. "Sorry we're late."

"Did we miss lunch?" Max asked as she settled her bag on the table. She unwound a blue scarf from her neck, one that they hadn't seen her with before.

"Nah, we were waitin' for you guys," Bobby informed her as he pulled various items from the refrigerator.

"What're we having?" Max asked as she removed her jacket and hung it up.

"Oh there's leftover chili, or sandwiches," Bobby shrugged. "Your call."

"How about both?" Max asked with a smile. "I'm starving."

"Okay," Bobby replied with a nod.

"And if no one minds, I'm gonna go change," Max decided as she headed out of the kitchen. "Don't forget Dean's stuff Sam," she called back through the hallway, before entering the spare bedroom. Three pairs of puzzled eyes turned to the youth and with a flourish, he presented his brother with the bag he'd been carrying.

"There you go," he told Dean, who took the plastic grocery bag suspiciously.

"What's this for?" Dean demanded. Sam smiled, knowing that his brother was fearing some sort of set up.

"Good advice," he uttered sagely. "Gotta be worth something, right?" Dean's eyes narrowed and then he looked into the bag and his eyes widened in delight at the assortment of chocolate bars and other candies. "Whoops," exclaimed Sam, his hand darting into the bag and extracting a small box of cherry cordials. "Those are Max's. But the rest of them are yours." He set the box on the table.

"Well all right!" Dean grinned, rummaging through the lot. "Good advice, I'm full of it."

"You got that right," John snorted with a laugh and then laughed harder as Dean threw him an imperiously injured look.

"Well he was right this time," Sam defended his brother. "He told me to keep trying to talk to Max. And it finally worked."

"So what was the problem?" Dean asked, trying to decide what to munch on first, even as John leaned forward, knowing what Dean was planning. He still didn't approve of candy before or in lieu of a meal.

"Put them away until later son," he instructed and then turned his gaze to Sam.

"It was pretty silly, actually," Sam told them casually, thinking of the partial lie that he and Max had agreed upon. "Apparently I said something to her, she took it the wrong way and then got ticked off because I didn't notice she was mad at me. It kind of snowballed from there." John shook his head, bemused, while Bobby let out an amused snort.

Dean however, collapsed onto a chair, scoffing, "all that 'cause she was PMS-ing?"

"Ooh," Bobby flinched as he was reaching for a bowl. "John, don't you ever teach your boys anything?" John rolled his eyes and pulled out a seat for himself.

"Look," he intoned quietly, beckoning both of his sons in closer. They obeyed more out of curiosity than anything. "Cardinal rule of dealing with women; never blame anything on PMS. Even if it is, just don't!"

"Yeah," Bobby chimed in, "or you'll end up suffering dire consequences."

"Like what?" Dean snorted. "Being ignored by my sister and getting a two week vacation from being annoyed?" he teased Sam.

"Hey, I'd like to see you try," Sam teased right back. "It's no picnic, you know. Dean, you'd go nuts within an hour if that happened."

"If what happened?" Max asked brightly as she re-entered the kitchen.

"If you were to ignore me," Dean answered, leaning back in his chair to poke her in the ribs as she passed by him.

"Well, you're doing okay so far," Max grinned, "but now I'm really ignoring you. Anything I can do to help Bobby?"

"Nah darlin'," Bobby smiled. "Your chili'll be warm in a minute. As to the rest, I figure free for all."

"Well, I'll get some plates," she decided. She moved over to the cupboard, where Dean's back was to her and gave John and Sam a conspiratorial wink. They knew what she was planning and hastily wiped the smiles from their faces when she returned. She set the small stack of plates down on the table and passed them around, deliberately missing Dean, who scowled playfully.

"Ooh, that hurt," he taunted. "How will I ever recover from having to get up and get my own plate?" He stood up to retrieve one and Max just calmly stepped around him, her face a placid mask, quite blank, as she continued helping Bobby serve lunch.

"So what else did you guys get?" John asked, hooking the bag Max had set on the table by the plastic handles and moving it out of her way so that she had room to place things.

"Oh, we got some videos," Sam explained. "We weren't sure if you had anything planned for the next few days, so we got them for a while."

"That's fine," said John. They were on vacation after all.

"What'd you get?" Dean asked as he reached for the loaf of bread Bobby had just set down. "Nothing cheesy I hope. Although if Max was choosing, it'll probably be one of those teeny-bopper chick flicks.

"Oh, I vote we watch _Hunt For Red October_ first," Max enthused as she and Bobby finally sat. "Thanks," she added as the older man slid her chili towards her. "I mean," she continued the thread of conversation, "political thriller, Sean Connery, how could you go wrong?"

"You just like him for his accent," Sam teased playfully as he worked on assembling a sandwich. So far everything had been good. No one seemed to suspect that there was anything between he and Max, beyond what they were seeing.

"Well, she could like him for worse reasons," John mused. "What else did you get?"

"_Apocalypse Now_," Sam recounted, ticking off the titles on his fingers, "_Bridge Over The River Kwai, Good Morning Vietnam _and _The Joy Luck Club_."

"What'd you get that one for?" Dean demanded with a snort and a full mouth. He swallowed hastily. "Unless you feel the need to get in touch with your inner female Sammy."

Sam merely raised an eyebrow at that and then turned back to his father. "We got that one for the essay assignment you gave us."

"The assignment was to write an essay on a book, not watch a movie," John scowled.

"We did get the book," Max chimed in, leaning forward to address her father. "We thought it would be interesting if we did a cross analysis of the author's version versus the screenwriter and director's censorship to appeal to the mass audience." Which was true. "That's part of why we were late. We had to stop at the bookstore too," Which was a partial truth. It had in fact been another attempt in delaying the inevitable return to their family's reality.

"So you're doing the report together?" John asked. Both nodded.

"If you don't mind," Max added.

"Yeah," Sam enthused," because we thought we could kind of do it with a gender biased interpretation, since it's a film centered on mother-daughter relationships."

"Kind of a he said- she said sort of thing," Max grinned,

Sam turned to her. "And you know, we should also consider the cross-cultural clash."

"Right," Max nodded as she spooned up some chili. "The whole ancient Chinese tradition being bucked by the pervading Americanisms."

"All right," John interrupted with a chuckle. "Save it for the essay. I want to be at least a little surprised by what I read."

"Sorry Dad," Sam grinned, echoed immediately by Max.

"Actually," she went on, "we were gonna get a copy of _Hunt For Red October_ as well, but the guy at the bookstore said that the movie came pretty close."

"It did," Bobby chimed in. "Not like Clancy's other Jack Ryan novels though. They messed those up pretty bad."

There followed a discussion that took up the rest of their short lunch over the merit of books versus the movies that had been made for them. As expected, Dean took every opportunity that presented itself to tweak Max verbally. But she never once took the bait. The other males could see that he wasn't yet desperate, but faced with having to watch a movie wherein she had the perfect excuse to ignore him, he chose a risky move. As they were taking turns rinsing off the dishes that they had used and putting things away, Dean loudly and with great emphasis, began to rummage through his bag of goodies.

"Mmmm, these all look so good. What should I have first?" he wondered aloud. "Oh I know! I'll start with these!" and he snatched the box of cherry cordials right out from under Max's outstretched hand. The other three watched with baited breath for the imminent explosion, but it never came. Max didn't even flinch as she simply changed the direction to pick up the bag of videos that John had set on the floor. She took them to the living room where she set up the movie she wanted to watch and then darted into the bedroom, returning a moment later with a pillow and a blanket. She made herself comfortable on the floor as the others followed her. Bobby and John took seats on the opposite ends of the sofa. Dean grabbed his pillow, laying atop his rolled up sleeping bag and threw it down on Max's right. He laid down beside her as the opening credits began to play, leaving Sam to mimic them, laying to Max's left. But not so close that they'd be tempted to give himself away.

Dean, very casual and studying the screen, suddenly and with great deliberation, yanked away the blanket that Max was using and happily settled it over himself. In return Max simply got up, picked up her pillow and retreated to Sam's far side. With pursed lips, Sam scooted towards his brother, who looked gleeful at having gotten at least that reaction out of her. Sam deliberately left a fair gap between he and Dean. There was silence but for the movie for a few minutes, but then the distinct sound of cellophane being unwrapped reached their ears. Dean pulled the cover off the chocolate box and held the box up to his nose and inhaled dramatically.

"Ah. Those smell so good!" he declared.

"Sh!" Sam hissed and Dean turned his head.

"Oh, sorry little brother. Did you want one?"

"No!" Sam scowled. Dean shrugged and turned the box toward the couch.

"Dad? Bobby?" he offered. Bobby declined the offer, but with a scowl eerily similar to Sam's John shook his head.

"Cut it out Dean," the warning rumbled up from deep within his chest.

With a satisfied smile, Dean rested the box on his chest and withdrew a confection, which he popped into his mouth to chew noisily and appreciatively. "Oh man these are so good!" he groaned, reaching for another.

"Dean!" his father warned again, staccato and full of dire threat and the younger man fell silent, even though they could all hear the crackle of the individual papers that held the candies separate from one another. Sam was just a little pissed off, since he'd been the one to buy those for Max to enjoy. And now they were being used in his brother's quest for one oneupmanship. He turned his head and once he'd caught Max's eye, mouthed the word _sorry_ to her. A small smile touched her lips and she shook her head minutely and Sam understood that she wasn't too upset by Dean's behavior, recognizing it for exactly what it was.

Figuring that once Dean had eaten his way through the candies, they'd have some peace, Sam soon found that he was mistaken. He was startled when something flew in front of his face. He reflexively followed the arc of the small projectile as it landed on Max's stomach. He turned his head to see that his brother had changed his position. Dean was lying on his side, facing them, propping his head in his hand, bracing it with his elbow on the floor. The cordial box was on the floor before him and as Sam watched, Dean reached for another paper, crumpled it and lobbed it towards Max. Rolling his eyes and sighing, Sam turned his attention back to the movie. But like everything else, the paper missiles had no effect on her. Max didn't even deign to brush them off of where they landed, as Sam had when one landed short, falling on his chest. Finally out of ammunition, they had a few peaceful moments until Dean launched his next attack. Very calmly, he sat up, set the cordial box aside, picked up his pillow, fluffed it a few times and then let fly. Everyone stilled as it contacted Max's face with an extremely audible thump. They held their breaths, but after a moment, Max simply reached up, pulled the pillow from her face, lifted her head and crammed the new pillow beneath it. She calmly folded her hands across her stomach, her eyes never leaving the television screen.

"What are you?" Dean hissed. "Some friggin' ice queen?" And still intent on his mission to annoy a reaction out of her, he leaned across Sam and yanked his pillow back from her. When that yielded nothing, he jerked hers out as well, causing her head to fall back and connect with the floor, making a very a solid thump.

"Dean!" Sam snapped, peeved beyond belief on Max's behalf. She may have ignored him, but she'd never resorted to deliberately hurting anyone and she certainly didn't deserve this just because Dean wanted to prove something. He turned to check on her and was extremely startled to see her eyes swimming with tears. She hurriedly sat up, stood and left the room. They all heard the bathroom door click shut and almost as one, the other three males rounded on Dean, who sat straight up, obviously satisfied with himself.

"You jerk!" Sam hissed. "That was just great. Jesus Dean! You made her cry!"

As those words sank in, the triumph faded from Dean's eyes and guilt began to creep in and take over. "Oh damn it," he sighed and climbed to his feet to chase after his sister as Sam glared at his back "Max!" he called loudly to be heard through the door. Bobby helpfully used the remote to mute the television. "Maxie? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

With a sigh, John made to get up, but Bobby flung his hand out to stop him. "Let them sort it out John," he instructed, not bothering to hide his amusement. Dean pounded on the bathroom door.

"Maxie! Come on! I'm sorry I ate your chocolates! I'll make it up to you. You can have some of mine. I'll buy you another box. A bigger box. Two boxes! Two huge boxes! Please Max!" he whined. "Come on, talk to me. You're driving me nuts here!"

Two things happened with that admission. The first was that Bobby chuckled and reached for his watch, making it beep. The second was that Max immediately emerged from the bathroom, stepped past her contrite brother and back to the living room. "I believe you said an hour Sam?" she asked, her voice with a strange lisping quality to it. "So what was it Bobby?"

The older man, still chuckling, held up his watch. "Forty-eight minutes and twelve seconds." He laid his hand across his stomach and leaned back, sighing.

"Are you okay sweetie?" John asked, leaning forward, having noticed her lisp as well. Max grinned and quickly stuck her tongue out for a moment.

"I was trying so hard not to laugh,' she explained, " but I bit my tongue, made it bleed."

"She damn near rocked me off the couch, she was shaking so hard," Bobby complained good-naturedly. "I'm surprised you didn't notice John." He and Max shared a grin, delighted in their parts in this mutual prank.

"You little brat!" Dean exclaimed and then gave a hearty laugh. He settled himself back on the floor and then noticed the raised eyebrow stare that Max was leveling at him, "What?"

"I thought you said you were going to buy me some more chocolates," she reminded him softly.

"Right now?" he asked incredulously, gesturing at the television. "What about the movie?"

"Oh, okay," Max whispered, her lower lip trembling artfully. She lowered herself to her original position between the boys. "I guess it doesn't matter."

Dean's face crumpled in consternation and then he sighed and made to stand up again. "All right, I'm going. Just-!" He was cut off by John's sharp laughter. Glancing around, he saw their amused faces and Max's lips twitching.

"God, she has you wrapped around her little pinky, Dean-o," John taunted.

"Yeah well," Dean huffed as he dropped back down. "I'm not the only one Dad," he pointed out sarcastically.

"That's just cause we love her so much," Sam quipped and daringly, under the cover of family unity and bliss, he glanced a quick kiss on her cheek.

"Love you too," she answered and though the words sounded like an automatic reply, and she kept her eyes on the television screen, Sam knew that the words had been expressly for him. Settling back after Dean replaced her pillow where it belonged, she held out her hand one more time to him. Dean stared at it for a moment before slowly and regretfully handing over his bag of goodies. It changed to puzzlement as she chuckled. "No Dean," she whispered. "My blanket?"

With relief, he took the bag back and exchanged it for her quilt. She quickly settled it over herself, including Sam under its folds. Under that cover and pretense, they held hands where no one could see, with their heads together, enjoying the movie to the fullest extent that they could.


	8. Mystery Solved?

Series Title: What If...

Fiction Title: Racing Towards Destiny

Chapter Title: Mystery Solved?

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 to MA

Chapter Rating: PG-15

Genre: Crossover

Type: Romance, Angst

Pairing: Sam/ Max

Summary: One dream set her on a path of destiny.

Spoilers/ Timeline: This story would begin in Chapter 17- Coming Of Age

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first, please

A/N: This story, while being in the same universe as WiC, does not actually occur within that storyline. This fiction is just an off-shoot of what _**might**_have happened.

**Chapter Eight**

**Mystery Solved?**

Dean swore softly under his breath. His finger rifled through the box as he counted again, and came up short. Again. Pursing his lips, he tried to think back and recall if he'd missed anything. It was a possibility, but a slim one. The only other thing that it could be was that there was someone else getting into his stash. And if that was the case, there was only one suspect in his mind. Tossing the box back into his duffel bad, he slung the handles together and headed back to the main room.

"Ready to go Dean?" his father asked, glancing up from where he was loading up his jacket with essentials.

"Actually Dad, I need to run a real quick errand. I'll catch up with you," Dean replied easily.

"All right," John shrugged. It didn't matter either way to him. "Okay," he tuned to face Sam and Max, seated at the tiny, slightly off balance table, loaded down with their schoolwork, books and assignment sheets. "You two know the drill."

"Actually Dad," Dean interrupted, "I kind of need Max's help. I won't keep her long," he promised, aware of the mild surprise on each of their faces. The girl threw a questioning glance at Sam, who returned the look with a puzzled half-shrug.

"Okay Dean," she rose and picked up her jacket as Dean headed for the door.

He had the passenger side of the Impala unlocked by the time she caught up to him. She slid into the seat apprehensively while he settled himself into the driver's seat.

"Where are we going?" she asked as he started the engine.

"Not far," he grunted, maneuvering the car out of the motel parking lot.

"And what are we doing when we get there?" she asked archly.

"You'll see," he replied, and then glanced at her, giving her a wicked smile. "I just need some help picking some stuff out."

"What stuff?"

"Date stuff," he smirked.

"You have a date?" she asked, bemused and surprised, especially since they'd been in town for less than a day. Dean however, instead of bragging over this fact, just continued to smile as he directed the car to a drug store that was still open. Max, unsure of what was going on, followed after him hesitantly. He barely acknowledged the clerk's greeting, heading straight to the cosmetics area. To her relief, they bypassed the make-up and halted in front of the display of men's cologne. Dean started sniffing at the tester bottles, making different faces at the scents. Finally he gestured to her.

"Here, pick out something nice," he directed her. "I'll be right back."

She furrowed her eyebrows at him, "but I-!"

"Nothing too strong," he warned as he moved off down the aisle. Max watched his retreating back for a moment and then, with a perplexed sigh, turned back to the unexplained task. She carefully sniffed at each product offered. She found most to be too overpowering for her sensitive nose. Not knowing exactly what he was after, Max settled on three choices. The first was a sweet, yet exotic blend that made her think of chewing fruit flavored gum in a jungles. The second was a subtle sandalwood based scent that was by far her favorite. The third was a musk based outdoorsy type that she thought might suit Dean's taste. As she looked over the three tester bottles she held, Dean reappeared, carrying a shopping basket.

"What'd you find?" he asked jovially, once he'd reached her side. Wordlessly, she held out her hands. He took the first, sniffed and wrinkled his nose. "Too fruity," he proclaimed it and set the bottle back on the shelf where she gestured.

"Here, this might be better," she offered him the musk. He sniffed at it and his eyebrows went up and he sniffed again.

"That's good," he nodded. "I'll have to remember this." But that bottle too went back on the shelf. She handed him the third bottle and he sniffed it as well. His eyes went back and forth, as if thinking it over and then nodded once. He placed the tester bottle back on the shelf and took a small bottle of the product.

"So? We done?" Max asked as he placed the bottle in the basket.

"Nope, few more things to get," Dean announced and headed off down the aisle yet again. Max trailed after him. She caught up to him at a display of chocolates. "Now," he instructed, gesturing at large. "I know you're partial to cherry cordials, but what would be good date-wise?" Max rolled her eyes and quickly picked out a moderately sized box of assorted chocolates. She held it up for his inspection and he smiled. "Just what I was thinking," he crowed and the box joined the cologne. "Come on."

They ended up next at the till, but Dean waved the cashier away. He fingered several different flavors of lip balm before he settled on a flavorless brand. "Gum or breath mints?" he muttered. Max wasn't sure if he was talking to her, or just himself.

"Mints," she offered decisively though. "Watching someone smackin' on gum all night isn't very attractive."

"Good thinking," Dean complimented her, nudging her lightly with his elbow. He grabbed a pack of mints, dumped it into the basket and then set said basket on the counter. He snapped his fingers once and exclaimed, "ooh, flowers!" Max immediately shook her head.

"Overkill," she warned and glanced around. "Plus, I doubt you'd find a fresh bouquet here at this hour."

"Yeah," Dean grinned, nudging her again. "How'd you get so wise about all this?" He caught the cashier's eye and nodded. The man came forward to ring up the purchase.

"Common sense," Max answered Dean's query.

"Oh hey," Dean grinned at her. "Did you need anything while you're here?"

"Nah, I'm good," Max declined. The cashier, politely aware, waited for that before giving Dean the total. Her brother paid, received his change and receipt and waited a moment while the items were bagged. And then Dean led Max back out to the car. "Is that it?" she asked as they climbed back into the Chevy.

"That's it," Dean assured her. "But," he turned to face her, more serious than he'd been before, "I need to talk to Sammy when we get back. Privately."

"Oh, um, okay," Max agreed tentatively. She didn't really understand, but none of this made sense beyond the surface of things, since they'd left the motel. And Dean obviously wasn't going to clear it up for her. When they got back to the motel, she stayed in the car while Dean gathered up two bags, both with the drugstore logo and name on them and got out of the car. He threw her a cheeky grin and headed into their room.

"Hey Sam? Sammy!" he called as the main door slammed shut behind him. The bathroom door opened and Sam emerged. He glanced around.

"Where's Max?"

"Out in the car," Dean answered easily. "She'll be in, in a minute. I got something for you," he added, tossing one of the bags through the air. Sam caught it awkwardly and was able to discern a box shape in the midst of the plastic bag. Warily, he pulled apart the handles and glanced inside. Upon realizing that his elder brother had bought him condoms, he blushed and dropped the bag as if he'd been scalded. It landed on the corner of the bed.

"Dean," he began, completely embarrassed, but his brother just glared at him as sternly as possible.

"Now you can stay the hell out of mine," he warned his younger brother.

"Dean, I-!" Sam tried again, unable to meet his brother's eyes.

"I can count you know Sam," Dean snorted derisively. "But really? If you're going to be doing it, then you can man up and buy your own from now on."

"Dean, I'm not... I don't," Sam choked out. "I wasn't..."

"Oh please," Dean scoffed. "If you weren't up to something tonight, then why were you brushing your teeth a few minutes ago? I can smell the toothpaste from over here," he explained at Sam's surprised look.

"I was... I had something stuck in my teeth," Sam muttered defensively. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Sam please," he sighed in a long suffering, eldest brother way, "you and Max aren't as sneaky as you think you are." He was only a little surprised when Sam paled and sank down to the bed, his knees trembling visibly.

"Y-you know?" he stammered out and Dean snorted again.

"Not stupid here," Dean gestured at himself. "I can't say I'm too thrilled with it, but I can understand. Just don't let Dad find out about it. He'll tear you a new one." Sam gulped and nodded. "Oh," Dean smiled tightly and gestured to the other bag that he'd set on the table. "This is for you too. You need all the help you can get dude." Sam seemed taken aback.

"Uh, thanks, I guess," he mumbled, seemingly frozen to the bed. Dean checked his watch and frowned.

"I gotta get going. So, you kids have fun tonight and remember what I said. Protection and back-up. Really shouldn't be a problem for you now. See ya." Sam waved weakly, still entirely dumbfounded as Dean sailed out the door again.

Max, watching from the car, saw Dean emerge and cautiously vacated her seat. She left the door open, in case Dean decided on another errand. But her brother leaned against the hood of the car and beckoned her over. She shut the door and took up a similar position next to him.

"The jig is up," Dean announced quietly, but with a broad smile.

"The jig?" Mac repeated cautiously.

"Yeah. I know what you and Sam have cooked up for this evening," Dean stared at her. "And don't bother trying to cover, Sam confessed."

Panic gripped Max and she had to force herself to face him. "H-he did?"

Dean nodded and sighed. "I just want to know how many times this has happened before," he declared. Max ducked her chin, her hair falling forward to hide her face.

"Just twice," she mumbled softly. He sighed once again.

"Well I can't say that I'm overly pleased with how you two have gone about this, but I understand."

Max hesitantly looked up at her big brother. He didn't look all that angry. "You do?" she whispered. Dean smiled indulgently.

"Hey! I'll have you know that I was that age not that long ago. I remember what it was like." He straightened up then, the smile fading from his face. "But let me tell you something Max. If I ever, _ever_, catch you sneaking out to meet a boy and having Sam cover for you... I will tan your hide. And then I'll tell Dad," he threatened. Max gaped for a moment as everything suddenly fell together and the sick feeling gripping her stomach eased a bit.

"That's a bit of a double standard, isn't it?" she asked sarcastically.

"Damn straight!" he declared proudly. "Hey, you can't blame me for trying to watch out for my baby sister."

Max rolled her eyes, but straightened up with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. She placed her right hand over her heart and held her left hand up in the air. "Dean, I solemnly swear that I will not leave the motel room tonight, unless forced to by disaster, supernatural or otherwise!"

Dean chuckled and ruffled her hair. "All right brat," he teased and skirted the front of the car, heading for the driver's seat. Max stepped away from the car, heading for their room. "Oh hey!" Dean called, one foot poised in the act of getting into the car. He leaned forward, his arm braced against the top of the door. "Tell Sam he's got until eleven. I doubt we'll be back that early, but you know, just to be on the safe side. You know what, I'll call when we're done, make sure everything's kosher, okay?" Max bit her lip, nodded and put her hand to the door handle. "And don't hesitate to call if something happens. I'll handle Dad."

"Good night Dean," she called. He chuckled again, his attention finally shifting away from his wayward siblings. Max slipped into the room and leaned back against the door. She eyed Sam, sitting on the corner of the far bed, running one finger over his forehead in a repetitive, worried motion. "Sam?" she asked softly. He glanced up quickly and then dropped is eyes to the floor again.

"He knows," he murmured lowly. Max had to strain to hear him.

"No actually," she corrected, "Dean only _thinks_ he knows."

"What?" Sam demanded, looking fully at her now. Max pushed herself away from the door and as she approached him, snagged the drugstore bag from the table. She placed the bag next to him and took a seat herself.

"Dean," she announced with exaggerated care, "is of the opinion that you have made plans to meet some lucky girl, while I remain behind like a good little girl and cover for you."

"Really?" Sam asked again, speculatively. His brows furrowed together. "Really? But how...?"

"I have no clue," Max laughed.

"So why did he want you to go with him?" Sam asked. Max rustled the plastic bag between them.

"I guess he wanted a female's opinion."

Sam plucked the bag from between them and opened it for the first time, his hand delving in to rifle through the items. "He uh, said I needed help," Sam mumbled.

"Oh I don't know about that," Max teased, nudging him gently. "I think you do just fine on your own."

"Well in any case," Sam withdrew the chocolates and held them out to her. "I believe these are for you." Max took them, running her hand over the cover and then laughed.

"You know, I'm glad I talked him out of the flowers. Those would have been hard to explain."

"Oh I'm sure we'd come up with something. But this?" Sam pulled out the lip balm. He regarded the small cylinder for a moment. "Ideas?"

"Mm," Max sighed. "That's to keep those lips soft, supple and oh so very kissable." She turned her face up to his and he dropped a kissed on her bowed mouth. He grinned and turned back to the bag.

"Breath mints," he pulled them out. "Always a good idea."

"I've never had reason to complain."

"Me neither," Sam smiled. "And then," he pulled the cologne out. He set the bag aside and worked on opening the box.

"You know," Max mused, "I wasn't sure why Dean chose that one over the one I thought would suit him better. But now that I know what he was up to..."

Sam unscrewed the cap and took a cautious sniff and his face reflected his surprised delight. "That's nice. I like it."

Max reached for the bottle and took it from him. She covered the bottle neck with her forefinger and quickly inverted the bottle. She transferred it to her other hand and then slowly trailed her scented finger down the line of his neck. She leaned into him, inhaling the combined scents the cologne and his skin offered. "It suits you. It was the one I liked best. I'm glad I chose it."

"I'm glad too," Sam murmured huskily. Max rubbed her nose playfully against this throat and then pulled away.

"The only thing I don't know about is, what's in the other bag." Sam twitched and busied himself with re-capping the cologne bottle. Max waited a moment and then reached for the bag. "Can I?" she asked. Sam nodded and Max glanced in the bag, suddenly starting to giggle. "Well, I think the message is loud and clear about that, huh?" she teased.

"Very," Sam agreed, setting the cologne on the nightstand. "And it'd be a shame to not um... use them, when he went to so much trouble to get them for me."

"You know," Max wrinkled her nose, "Dean wanted me to tell you that you and your _date_ had until eleven. And he'll be calling before they head back to uh, make sure that the coast is clear."

"Well that's pretty decent of him," Sam arched his eyebrows. "And I'd hate to waste a second of that time on how un-jerk like my brother is being. So Max? What do you say? Are you ready for our _date_?"

"Most eagerly," she returned, holding out her hand. Sam took it and pulled her close, all thoughts of anyone but them disappearing.

The phone rang once, at precisely eleven o'clock. There was a pause and then it began to ring in earnest. Max rolled over on her bed and picked up the receiver. "'llo?" she mumbled.

"Hey Maxie," Dean's voice was muted by some background noise, but she could hear him clearly enough. "I didn't wake you up, did I?"

"No, but I was almost asleep," she grumbled.

"Sorry. Is Sam back yet?"

"Yeah, he got back half an hour or so ago," she lied, since he'd never actually gone out. "He's in the bathroom right now." The silence on the other end of the line was heavy with suspicion. "Really, he is," Max insisted. "Hang on." She stood and dragged the phone with her. She knocked on the door. "Sam?"

"Yeah?" She held the phone out so that Dean could hear Sam answer,

"Dean's on the phone."

"Okay, I'll be out in a minute."

She returned the receiver to her ear. "Did you hear that?"

"Yeah," Dean grunted. "Ask him what the square root of 9148 is."

"Oh my God," Max chuckled. "You're really paranoid, you know that?"

"No," he drawled. "I just know what kind of dangerous schemers you two are when you put your heads together." Max gave another laugh and repeated the question to Sam.

"Yes, because I always take a calculator to the bathroom with me. Geeze!"

She heard Dean chuckle and asked, "satisfied?"

"I guess. How did his date go?"

"Well, he seemed pretty happy," Max smiled softly, though Dean couldn't see it. "The chocolates were good."

"See? I know what I'm doing, huh?"

"No, I mean they were very tasty."

"Huh? What happened?"

"Oh, it turns out she is diabetic," Max lied through her teeth.

"Typical," Dean snorted. "Should've gone with the flowers."

"Yeah, but then it would have turned out that she was allergic."

"Yup," he agreed with no small amusement. "But anyways, the other reason I was calling was to let you guys know that we're still gonna be a while."

"Oh? How long?"

"Mm, maybe another hour, possibly two," he decided.

"All right," Max accepted that easily. "I'll tell Sam."

"And tell him to stay put now," Dean instructed sternly. "He's already had his fun for the night."

"I'll pass that along," Max assured him. And Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"95.64517731."

"All right Miss Smarty Pants," he chuckled. "Sleep tight."

"Night Dean," Max mumbled and returned the phone to its cradle. The bathroom door opened and Sam emerged. "You're too late," Max informed her boyfriend with a smile. "He already hung up."

"That's okay," Sam chuckled. "I've got better things to do than talk to my brother." He paused. "Did he say anything?"

Max nodded. "Yes. You Samuel, have had your limit of fun for tonight, according to your brother and are most definitely not to go out again," she said it teasingly.

"Well," Sam sighed, "I'm going to have to make at least one quick trip to the dumpster out back. And since I technically haven't been out yet, I won't be going out _again_."

Max frowned until she realized that he was holding one of the plastic bags from earlier and what evidence it obviously contained. "Or you could stay out of the dark alleyway and use the trash container next to the soda machine," she suggested, sincere in her slight worry. Sam picked up on it and smiled.

"If I'd known there was one there, I would have suggested that," he assured her and she nodded. Her shoulders drooped as she released the frission of tension she'd held.

"Oh, while you're there, could you...?"

"Yeah," Sam smiled indulgently. "What would you like?"

"Anything clear is good," she shrugged, reaching to her duffel bag on the floor to retrieve her wallet.

"I got it sweetie," Sam told her as he headed for the door. "I'll be right back." He was as good as his word, carrying with him two bottles of soda. He shut the door firmly and held out a bottle for her. Max took it and then noticed the frown on his face.

"Problem?"

"Yeah," he whispered huskily, stepping closer to her. He ran one fingertip over the scalloped edge of the camisole she wore, smiling briefly as she shivered at the contact. "I think I got a little carried away."

Max glanced down, surprised by the purpling mark left by his lips, violently visible above the white material. "Oh I'll say!:"

"You better change," he warned. Max set the bottle down on the table and went back over to retrieve a t-shirt from her bag. She slipped it on quickly and smoothed the hem over her hips.

"Lucky it wasn't higher," she teased, though she was blushing just a little. Sam grinned foolishly, the moment that he'd done that to her playing through his mind again. It was an intimate prelude to even more enjoyable destinations. "Better be more careful in the future," she continued teasing as she returned to him. "Or I just might have to retaliate."

"Oh really?"

"Mm hm," she nodded, reaching her arms up to wrap around his neck. His hands instantly caught her waist, pulling her closer. "I could have you wearing turtlenecks all summer."

"Oh God," Sam groaned as she rotated her hips against his. "Would you really torture me like that?"

"No," she giggled instantly, leaning back from him slightly and unclasping her hands, to trail one slowly down his chest. "I could be persuaded to take it... lower." She scratched lightly at his stomach. Sam had the sudden image of her doing precisely that and tried helplessly to rein his imagination in.

"How much time before they get back?" he demanded, his lips seeking hers.

"An hour," she murmured against him. "Maybe more." They heard then the distant sound of a car door slamming and though they both knew that it probably wasn't the Impala or John's truck, they still broke apart.

"Or maybe less," Sam grumbled. Max chewed at her lower lip thoughtfully.

"You're right," she finally whispered. "We took a chance tonight... not really the smartest move on our parts."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "They could've been back at any time, for any reason."

"So I take it that this is no more?" she frowned, gesturing at the motel room at large.

"Here, no," Sam confirmed slowly. "But Max, we'll figure something out. I promise. There is just no way I'm gonna..."

"Me neither," Max smiled, reaching for his hand. They laced their fingers together and another door slammed a distance away. Sam chuckled ruefully and let go of her.

"We'll find a way," he repeated.

"Of course we will," Max agreed. "You know, Dean's pretty scared of us putting our minds together and coming up with schemes."

"Really?"

She nodded. "Yup. He said so tonight."

"That's good to know," Sam grinned, but then sighed and glanced around. "So what now?"

"Bed?" Max suggested and Sam groaned.

"No! Sorry, but I can't think of you and a bed, especially when its just the two of us."

"All right," Max laughed throatily. "Homework then?"

"Yeah, I think I can handle that."

Dean found them like that, cross-legged on the couch, facing each other with a pile of books and papers before them, firing ideas back and forth at each other. "Hey!" he greeted them brightly. "Everything go all right tonight?" Both faces smiled up cheerfully at him.

"Yeah. You?" Max asked. Dean nodded as he shed his jacket and laid it over the back of a chair.

"It was fine. Dad'll be here right away. How was the date Sam?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Awesome," Sam replied truthfully, covertly winking at Max. She hid her grin.

"Good," Dean grunted. "Oh, and sorry about the chocolates," he added off-handedly.

"That's okay,' Sam shrugged his shoulders. "Max enjoyed them."

"Yeah, they almost made up for the chocolates you promised to buy me a few weeks ago and never did."

Dean winced, obviously having hoped that she'd forgotten about that. There was a moment of silence and then Sam turned and stretched out his legs. "Well, I'm stumped," he grunted and gestured at their schoolwork. "I think I'll finish this tomorrow."

"Yeah, time to hit the hay," Max chimed in, unwinding herself from her position as well. By the time John arrived, both of the youngsters were sound asleep.


	9. The Consequences Of Our Actions

Series Title: What If...

Fiction Title: Racing Towards Destiny

Chapter Title: The Consequences Of Our Actions

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Series Title: What If...

Fiction Title: Racing Towards Destiny

Chapter Title: The Consequences Of Our Actions

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 to MA

Chapter Rating: PG-13

Genre: Crossover

Type: Romance, Angst

Pairing: Sam/ Max

Summary: One dream set her on a path of destiny.

Spoilers/ Timeline: This story would begin in Chapter 17- Coming Of Age

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first, please

A/N: This story, while being in the same universe as WiC, does not actually occur within that storyline. This fiction is just an off-shoot of what _**might**_have happened.

**Chapter Nine**

**The Consequences Of Our Actions**

The tapping of the blunt, eraser tipped edge of the pencil in Dean's hand was erratic and annoying. At least John found it to be so. Dean probably found it soothing, or was so immersed in his appointed task that he didn't even realize that he was doing it. It was probably the latter, since after listening for a few minutes, John couldn't recognize a discernible song amidst the soft arrhythmic thumps. And when Dean was agitated about something, he usually found comfort in music or the car. But at the same time, John also noticed that he hadn't seen Dean turn a page in the book he was pouring over for quite a while. John snuck a glance at the pad of legal paper wedged under Dean's right arm, the partial victim of the pencil that his son held. As he'd thought, there was nothing written there. So what was so absorbing in that book? John watched Dean's face out of the corner of his eye. It was amusing, watching his son's face when Dean thought no one was looking. And he was able to make a few assumptions while he was at it. Dean wasn't agitated in the usual sense. Nor was he completely absorbed by the text. No, John knew that look. His son was sulking.

"You could have gone too, you know," he announced quietly. Dean started and threw his father a look, though John's eyes were locked on the book he was reading through. Dean threw down the pencil from his hand.

"No, I said I'd help you and I will," Dean asserted and John grunted.

"Yeah, because the big scary books are going to attack me at any second," John snorted. He slammed shut the book he'd been looking over and rapped his knuckles against the hard binding. "Bad book! Bad!" He was pleased to see his son's lips twitching. John leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "Dean, if you want to go swimming with Sam and Max, then I don't mind," John assured him.

Dean measured his father's sincerity with a long glance and them slammed his own book shut and jumped up from the table. "See ya!"

John laughed heartily at the young man's antics. Dean scooped up his wallet, keys, the bag that contained his swim gear and was out the door in a flash. John set about flipping through his book again, trying to find where he'd left off. Of course, the only downside to sending Dean off, was that John was now left stranded, since Sam and Max had borrowed the truck, with Max's bike still in the back. But hopefully, he wouldn't have to go anywhere in the next few hours.

Dean scanned the parking lot of the recreation center in town. For a small town, the place was huge. But then, according to Max, the complex housed several different amenities, aside from the swimming pool. He pulled down a long lane of parked cars, looking for a vacant spot to park the Impala in. It wasn't odd that he hadn't spotted the truck. The parking lot was almost completely full. Dean finally caught a spot as some teen pulled out and headed off. This got him fairly close to the main entrance. After gathering his essentials and locking doors, Dean ambled on in.

Harsh sounds assaulted his ears the moment he opened the steel fire safety security doors. This brought him to a foyer with a sign, directing visitors. The pool was to his left and that was were Dean's interest lay. He headed through the doors in that direction and he could immediately smell the vague scent of chlorine in the air. He approached a booth where a young lady, maybe seventeen sat behind the Plexiglas partition. There was no line and she smiled politely as Dean got closer.

"Hi," she greeted. "Swimming?"

"Yep," Dean nodded, setting his bag on the narrow counter, starting to reach for his wallet.

"Okay," the girl murmured, gesturing to her right, where the pool was visible. "There's a closed session for seniors right now," she explained, gesturing once to the sign located above and behind her head. "Free swim is from ten until four."

"Oh shoot," Dean grimaced. "I was running late and I was gonna meet my little brother and sister here. Maybe you saw 'em?" But the girl was already shaking her head.

"I just came on shift a few minutes ago." Dean sighed at that. "But, they might be up at the concession," she offered, gesturing to her left at a ramp that led past her booth. "Or the library." She grinned at Dean's surprised look. "Or they could be in the lounge, or the rink, or the gym. But not the auxiliary room. No one is using that room until tonight."

"A pool and a rink?" She looked pleased at having surprised Dean.

"Yup! Installed the rink about ten years ago when people were expanding the WHL. Got the rink and a team. The boys had an open practice this morning."

"WHL?" Dean asked.

"Western Hockey League," the girl explained. "It's the last step before National around here."

Dean grinned charmingly, very obviously aware that the girl seemed to be an avid fan of the sport. He picked up his bag. "Well, I'll try your suggestions, see if I can find the kids and I'll see you again at ten." He threw her a generous wink, appreciated the blush in her cheeks and then headed up the ramp. The concession area wasn't large. There were two large tables with hard plastic orange chairs surrounding them. The windows on the far side were lined with smaller tables, probably so people could enjoy the full view of the pool the windows afforded.

Dean could smell the overlaying scents of beef, cheese and grease. He sniffed appreciatively, deciding he'd stop back later and scanned the seating area. The only occupants were two middle aged women, sitting in the corner at one table, each with a cup of coffee before her. Given that they were watching the seniors and wearing similar nurse type outfits offset by cardigans, Dean figured they were probably nursing home workers.

So, not seeing his siblings, Dean continued own the opposite ramp, leading away from where he'd come. The library loomed before him and he gave a rueful chuckle. This was probably where he should have checked first. He tugged gently at the door and it glided open. He ducked into the large area and glanced around. Periodicals to the left, check out to the right. Straight down the center were several rows of computers. The bookshelves lined the outer walls and two thirds of the building. Walking directly towards the computers, Dean saw that they only went about halfway through. After that there were armchairs and sofas where people could comfortably read. It was quiet, as expected, with the barely there hum of machines, the occasional rustle of a turning page and whispered conversations. Dean wandered through, checking in each aisle, even sticking his head in the children's room, but found no trace of Max or Sam.

He left the library, checking his watch as he did so. There was less than half an hour until the pool opened to the public, so they couldn't be far. But instead of heading back up the ramp, Dean veered to the left, following the broad hall. At the far wall were steps leading gown to a sunken lounge. The carpeted area contained circular couches, surrounded by planters. Ferns and various other types of foliage filled the containers, gracing the air with a humid sweetness. Unable to see clearly each seat, Dean as able to discern bodies lounging in those seats. So he jumped down the few steps and began casing the area as discreetly as possible. But the only pair of feet that he found, belonged to two blond females, sitting, gossiping. With a disgruntled snort, Dean headed up, out of the lounge at the other end.

The door to the rink was his next stop, but he was waylaid from entering by a sudden outpouring of teens and a few adults. He scanned the group, hearing snatches of comments about the hockey practice. But again, there was no sign of Sam or Max. once the majority of people had cleared away, Dean approached the doors, catching it as a couple were exiting.

"Excuse me?" Dean asked as politely as he could. Both man and woman paused, waiting expectantly. "Is practice over?"

"A few minutes ago," the man confirmed as he buttoned up his overcoat. Dean's face crumpled with frustration.

"Oh don't worry," the woman interjected with a smile. "There's a home game tonight."

"Oh no," Dean smiled, "it's not that. I'm trying to find my sister and my brother and so far, they're nowhere around."

"Oh well, there's still some kids in there, waiting for the Zamboni to clear the ice," the man explained, putting his arm around the woman. She smiled.

"Maybe they decided to rent some skates," she offered.

"Yeah, thanks," Dean nodded. He stepped back, still holding the door open so that the couple could get by him. Once they were clear of the door, Dean stepped through, immensely glad that he was still wearing his coat and glad that the bleachers to his left were closed off by a cement wall with a red door marked _Authorized Personnel Only_. He headed right and quickly checked out the benches where some kids sat, lacing up their skates, but no luck. He headed back towards the raised seating, taking the steps two at a time. There were still people there all right, but as Dean scanned the rows upon rows of seats, he could see that it was mainly adults. Probably parents of the hockey players, discussing whatever was consuming their tiny lives. Growling a little, and trying to tamp down his growing irritation with his siblings disappearing act, Dean turned to leave. But then, after all, there was been no contingency plan made or discussed of where they'd go if the pool was closed and technically, it wasn't _their_ fault that the complex was so large. The last place left to look was the gym.

As he passed through another set of doors, a sign informed Dean that the locker rooms and rest rooms were located to his left, down the hallway. That was good to know of course, but he kept going to the main door of the gym. Again he was surprised. He supposed that he had figured the gym to be a workout place, but the squeak of sneakers over waxed floors and the thudding of balls told him that it was more of an actual school type gymnasium. Two courts, if the four basketball hoops and several pick-up games were any indication. Again and again Dean perused faces, looking for familiar clothing, listening for familiar voices amidst the cacophony of shouts, hoots, balls and sneakers. He even went so far as to walk to the other end of the gym and still nothing. He did discover that the restrooms were connected to the gym and just on the off chance, he ducked into the men's room, but it was deserted.

Really feeling aggravated by then, Dean gave up the search. According to his watch, he still had twenty minutes before the pool opened up. Shifting the bag that he'd been carrying all this time, Dean decided to head back to the concession and pass the time with a cup of coffee. As he approached the ramp, the girl in the ticket booth waved.

"Any luck?" she called and Dean shook his head in the negative.

"Absolutely none," he growled good-naturedly enough.

"Well," she began in a conciliatory fashion, "it's a big place. You could have missed them through simple bad luck."

"Yeah, knowing my luck, they've been sitting up there the whole time with no clue I've been running all over looking for them," Dean shook his head again.

"Oh probably," the girl nodded. "See you soon then?"

"You betcha," Dean tapped the counter with his knuckles and resumed his trek up the ramp. The concession was a little more full than it had been before, though those two women from before were still at their same table. Dean joined the short line forming at the counter. Once it was his turn, he ordered a black coffee and had it in moments. He was able to snag a seat along about the middle of the Plexiglas partition. It afforded him an excellent view of the swimming complex. On the other side, directly below where he sat, there was a kiddies pool, with a slide in the center and lifeguard towers at either end. Past that and to the left as one looked out from the concession, Dean could see a large hot tub, back in a tiled nook. Immediately beyond that, heading away from Dean, was a sauna room. Two doorways marked the exit of the changing rooms and beside them, a fire exit.

The main swimming pool, complete with its aerobicizing seniors in the shallow end, looked to be slightly larger than Dean was used to. His eyes followed along the length of it, noting that again, there were two lifeguard towers, opposite of one another, where the deep end began. There was no diving board, but he could certainly live with that.

And best of all, in Dean's opinion, was a matching dining area on the other side of the concession kitchen. Having checked out the main areas of interest and not having the desire to watch the seniors prancing about in organized fun, Dean turned his attention to the crowd seated around him. Sam and Max still hadn't shown up. Of course, it occurred to Dean that the pair of them might not even still be in the building. Maybe they had decided to go and get some breakfast elsewhere. Or maybe they were driving around, checking out the town. Hell, for all Dean knew, they were back at the motel, having a laugh with Dad over missing Dean at the complex. Letting his mind wander, the time passed. Finally, he noticed that the crowd was beginning to thin out. So he finished the last gulp of coffee, stood, pitched the Styrofoam cup in the trash can and followed after a group of kids. He joined the line that had formed for the pool and even then, he still didn't see them.

As he made his way fairly quickly up to the booth, he had his money ready. "Well, looks like just one today," he offered teasingly to, as the name tag she was finally wearing, proclaimed her Allison.

"You still haven't found them!" she laughed as she took his money. Dean shook his head as she stamped his hand. "Change for a locker?" she asked quickly.

"No, I'm good."

"Well have fun anyway," she tilted her head to the side sympathetically.

"Oh I intend to," he grinned and moved away. He was changed and showered within a few minutes. His gear was stowed safely in a locker, the key pinned to the side of his long baggy swimming suit. He emerged from the changing room, the smell of chlorine tickling his nose even more than before. He debated his options for a moment before he decided on the hot tub first. He was there to relax after all. There were a few teenagers already occupying the area, but they shuffled around so that Dean could fit in as well. He ignored the girls checking him out, instinct had told him that they were definitely too young. Instead, he read the sign, proclaiming that there was a fifteen minute time limit for each use of the hot tub. And that made sense, since staying in too long in the heat could be dangerous and disorienting for the body.

Dean marked the time on the overlarge clock, positioned beside the sign. He rolled his shoulders a few times, mentally willing the tension away. And then found that if he shifted a little, he had a pretty good view of the pool. He couldn't see the changing room doorways, but he wasn't overly concerned. Sam and Max would show up eventually. He gave himself over to watching the various people filling up the pool. It was mostly kids, though here and there a few parents were escorting toddlers to the kiddy pool. Some got in, others sat at the edge, dangling their legs while their children played.

It was Max he saw first. He recognized the wild print of her two piece bathing suit. She was about halfway down the pol before she found a place to set her towel on the bench on the far wall. She laid the folded towel against the wall, nestling it back out of the way of inadvertent sprayage, in the way she always did. Turning, she eased herself to a sitting position, dangling her legs in the water. Dean frowned, recognizing that there was something off about her. He looked her over carefully. It was difficult to discern from the distance between them. Dean leaned forward, ignoring the twitterings of the females around him, silently speculating with looks and gestures about his behavior.

Had Max hurt herself? It almost looked like she had a bruise on her chest. Dean tried to remember any instant where she'd been fighting or sparring, when she might have been hurt, but nothing came to mind. And even as Dean watched, some guy stopped to talk to her. Dean scowled as he could see her leaning away from the guy. She definitely wanted nothing to do with the guy and if he knew what was good for him... and then Max slipped into the pool. Dean was about ready to head over and intervene as the guy crouched down, but then Sam was there. Dean grinned as the guy backed off quickly, holding his hands out peaceably. Sam scowled at the guy until he'd moved completely away. Max must have said something to Sam, because his brother's attention immediately refocused on her. She'd waded back to the edge of the pool. Sam crouched down, smiling at her, some joke or something passing between them. Dean's eyes flickered toward the clock. He still had a few minutes. But when his eyes moved back to track his siblings, what he saw made him feel as if he'd been sucker punched.

No!

Nononononono! His brother could _not_ be kissing his sister! No, there had to be something else... but then, several things began to fall into place and Dean sucked in a huge breath, yet still felt breathless.

"Oh hell no!" he muttered, clambering up out of the hot tub. The teenaged girls giggles were ignored, as was one's admonition that he had to shower again before he got into the pool.

Dean made a beeline straight to where Sam was now sitting, as Max had, dangling his legs in the pool. Max had swam away, flitting already into the deep end. Dean caught up to Sam, just as his little brother was sliding into the pool. Dean reached out, snagging the top of Sam's ear, wrenching it back, making Sam yelp in pain and surprise. His head tilted back to see his fuming brother standing over him.

"Dean! What are you doing?" he growled, trying to get away from the burning pain in his ear. But each attempt was futile, as Dean refused to let go.

"You get your ass up here, right now!" Dean hissed, tugging upwards again.

"Hey!" the lifeguard called, moving towards them. "No roughhousing!" Dean's attention may have been diverted for a moment, but the pressure on his ear didn't lessen and Sam was forced to climb out of the pool or lose it.

"Back off,": Dean warned the lifeguard quietly. "This is between my brother and me." The man, probably younger than Dean and unused to having his authority challenged, quailed under the glare.

"Well," he hesitated and then stiffened his spine, "take it to the locker room."

"Oh I fully intend to," Dean informed the guard silkily and then turned back to Sam, releasing his brother's ear. "March!" Dean ordered, pointing towards the changing room. Sam, who'd been rapidly calculating what could have possibly pissed Dean off to this extent, had come up with some answers. And he had the dreadfully horrible feeling that he knew exactly what the cause was.

Each step Sam took felt as if her were moving closer to his own execution. They reached the locker room much, much sooner than Sam wanted. Dean shoved his brother to a corner, his eyes blazing with a fury that Sam had never seen before. And Sam knew that his only chance of scraping himself out of this mess, was to go on the offensive. "Dean whatever you are thinking-!"

"What I'm thinking?" Dean snapped. "Yeah, I don't want to be thinking it at all. Too bad I can't ignore the really obvious evidence right in front of me that my brother is screwing our little-!" His eyes rolled wildly and Dean paled. He glanced around at the men and boys glancing curiously at them as they moved back through the locker rooms and showers.

"Dean don't," Sam warned. "It's not like that."

"Oh? So you haven't slept with Max? Who is only fifteen, by the way!"

"I know that," Sam fired back.

"Then what the hell were you thinking?" Dean demanded, striving to keep his voice quiet. This was most definitely something he didn't want broadcasted.

"I'm thinking that I love her," Sam defended, sounding amazingly sure of himself. "And she loves me too."

"Oh my God," Dean groaned, dropping his head into his hands. "Sam..." he began, "you guys are too young-!"

"No we're not!" Sam retorted hotly.

"Yes you are!" Dean insisted, grabbing Sam's arm, his fingers as tight as pincers. "Have you thought about what happens in a few months when you're an adult and she's still a kid?" That barb hit its mark and Sam paled. "You haven't, have you?"

"Actually Dean, I have," Sam gulped. It was only one problem in the myriad that overwhelmed his mind in those ever increasing moments of despair that this relationship would actually work out. "Sometimes its all I think about. But Dean, I can't just turn my feelings off and pretend that this never happened."

"I'm not sayin'..." Dean sighed and rubbed his finger and thumb tiredly against his closed eyes. "Sam..."

"No Dean," Sam pressed on. "I'm sorry you had to find out this way. But Max and I know that this isn't some fairy tale where everything will be perfect just because we want it to be or because we say so." That seemed to take a little steam out of Dean.

"Sam," he began again, but his younger brother cut him off once more.

"We should get back out there. Max'll be wondering what happened." And with that, he threw off his brother's hand and walked down the hall. Dean sagged against the wall, his head thumping softly against the unyielding structure behind him. Maybe the rhythmic effort was some unconscious attempt to lull his mind into believing he could go back in time and erase this whole thing from his mind. But hey, while he was at it, why not go back and just prevent this from ever happening. Finally realizing that he was just stalling for time, Dean forced himself to follow after his brother. But Sam was nowhere in sight. Instead, Max was waiting for him, seated on the bench, her arms and legs crossed, though her face seemed placid. She stood when she saw him emerge and Dean had to fight the urge to duck back into the changing room. Bot there was no way he was going to wimp out in front of a fifteen year old girl.

"So?" she asked in a low voice. Dean was glad to see that she'd wrapped her towel around herself, covering up what was obviously a hickey on her chest. "One to ten on the freak-o-meter?"

"Twenty," he replied automatically, staring at a point somewhere over her left shoulder.

"Uh huh," she sighed, trying to be understanding, which for Dean, was worse than if she'd suddenly burst into tears. "Well, Sam has gone to get us something to drink. Why don't we go sit down and talk reasonably about this?" Dean blinked at her.

"Reasonably?" he demanded. "I'm sorry, but reason flew out the window when you two decided to turn out family into the hillbillies from hell."

"And that might be true if Sam and I were actually blood kin, but we're not," Max scoffed.

"Yeah well, that aside, Sam should know better-!"

"Don't!" Max snapped, her face tightening with anger. "Don't you dare blame Sam for what happened. You know what... if anyone's to blame? Try Dad. Or yourself for that matter." And with that she stalked away. Dean shook his head, unable to believe what he was hearing and it took him a moment to catch up with her, both literally and figuratively.

"What the hell does that mean?" he demanded, catching her elbow and yanking her around to face him.

"What do you think it means Dean?" she answered harshly. "Dad has been dragging us around for the past few years, putting up walls between us and everyone we meet, but for a few examples. Anytime a boy ever tried to look at me whoa! Instant bodyguards!"

"We were just trying to watch out for you," Dean defended softly.

"And you've done an excellent job. Bravo!" Max mockingly clapped her hands, but then continued on before he could get a word in. "But seriously Dean, I tried to tell Dad about this years ago." Shocked, Dean mouthed the word, gaping at her. "Yes years! But Dad didn't want to hear it Dean. And you! What? I follow your advice and now you're burning me for it?"

"I never told you to-!" Dean stopped himself before the words escaped, conscious of all the curious ears around them.

"Actually you did Dean, in your own roundabout way," Max taunted. "And if you hadn't told Sam to keep after me, then maybe this wouldn't have happened. If you'd just left us alone, then maybe we could have dealt with this in our own time. Face it Dean. You screwed up!" She twirled again and left Dean standing, gaping like a fish. She was right. He'd pushed Max and Sam together and Dad hadn't helped and she was... an absolute genius!

Despite his unease with the entire situation, he still had to admire Max. She'd turned the entire thing around on him and actually made him feel guilty. He chuckled ruefully and chased after her. This time, when he caught up to her, she and Sam were seated in a back corner of the the pool-side concession stand. Both of them stared up at Dean and Sam gestured at the empty seat, where a full beverage rested on the table. Dean pulled the chair out and collapsed into it.

"So, we talking calmly, or do the fine folks here get some juicy gossip to dine on?" Sam asked quietly.

"I don't think I can talk calmly," Dean sighed, fiddling with the straw before him. "Especially with evil genius here," he pointed at Max, "getting all defensive on me."

"Can you blame me?" Max asked gently, but forestalled an answer. "Look, you're not alone on this. Sam and I have had plenty of freaky moments over this whole thing."

"Yeah, somehow I doubt that."

"No, seriously Dean," Sam insisted. "Look, everything you could possibly be upset about, it had already occurred to us."

"Uh huh?" Dean snorted.

"The familial thing, the age difference, what you'd say, how Dad would react," Sam listed off on his fingers. "And that's just for starters," he sighed.

"So what are you going to do about it?" Dean demanded bluntly. Sam and Max exchanged wary glances.

"We don't know,' Sam answered honestly. "It's not something that can be solved in ten minutes."

"That's true," Dean conceded somewhat sympathetically. "And don't do that!"

"Do what?" Max asked sharply and Dean waved his hand at the pair of them.

"That! Holding hands when you think I don't notice!" He felt triumphant when their arms twitched and Max's hand reappeared on the table with Sam's following shortly after. They sat in silence for a while, taking hasty sips of their drinks to try and cover the awkwardness surrounding them.

"Look Dean," Max finally sighed, "we know this whole thing is strange-!"

"Right," Dean drawled sarcastically. "Yeah, my brother and sister... together... not strange at all, for us it's gotta be downright normal."

"From your perspective," Max pointed out, ignoring the attacks born out of discomfort, "but Sam and I have never really considered each other that way."

"Excuse me?" Dean demanded.

"We were friends," Sam clarified. "It was you and Dad really pushing the whole sister thing."

"Think about it this way Dean," Max interrupted before Dean could protest further, "what if it were some other girl sitting here?" She ignored the frown on Sam's face. "What if Sam had had the chance and had fallen in love with some other fifteen year old girl?"

"Then I'd still have objections to it," Dean declared. "Age being just one of the things."

"Okay," Sam tried next. "Then think about this. What if Mom and Dad had been younger when they met? What if Mom had only been fourteen? Dad fell head over heels before he knew much about her," Sam reminded his brother.

"Well," Dean growled, "I'd like to think that Dad would've been a gentleman-!"

"Oh you are such a damn hypocrite!" Max snapped, her voice low and her back ramrod straight. "It's out of the question for your parents, two people who loved each other, to have been with each other before they got married, huh? Yet you're tomcatting around with any woman who'll give it a go. And it's just fine by you if Sam did the same, as long as the girl's not me. There's that double standard I warned you about!"

"Hey!" Dean snarled back, "I'm just trying to keep you from getting hurt. Either of you!"

"So in your perfect little world, we'd be safe," Sam broke in. "But did you ever consider that we'd also be miserable? Is that what you want for us?"

"No," Dean groaned in protest. "Would you guys quit being so damn logical? You're giving me a headache!" He dropped his head into his hands again, grinding his heels against his closed eyes. Sam and Max glanced at each other, holding their breaths. As Dean's shoulders began to slowly slump, they could almost feel his capitulation. "Okay," he finally sighed, pulling his hands away to rest on his thighs. "Okay," he repeated. "I will try... _try_ and accept this. But no guarantees," he warned. "And if you two pull any of that lovey dovey crap around me, all bets are off." Both Sam and Max breathed a sigh of relief, grinned and nodded.

"So?" Sam clapped his hands together in anticipation, because well, one down, one to go, things were looking a little better. "Can we finally get back to doing what we came here to do?"

"Definitely," Max agreed. "I'll be in, in just a second." She swirled the ice in her cup and lifted it for another drink. Dean waved Sam away. Sam carried his empty cup to the trash container and moments later, was sliding into the deep end of the pool. Max finished her drink and stood, but leaned forward. "You know what Dean," she whispered conspiratorially and he glanced up at her. "It really is better when you're in love," she told him impishly. His face contorted as if he were in pain.

"Go!" he ordered. "Get out of my sight before I toss you in that pool and drown you, you little... brat!"

Max laughed as she strode gracefully away. "I'd like to see you try," she dared him as she dropped her cup in the trash and then began unwinding her towel.

"Don't tempt me," he growled. With another laugh, she dropped the towel on another bench and joined Sam in the water. Dean picked up his own cup, watching the pair of them speculatively, treading water and talking to each other. A little slice of happiness in this insane world. He wished he could believe in that, but for the little voice in the back of his mind telling him that hell had a better chance of freezing over, than this working out in the end. He sighed and drained his drink. Maybe for one day, it would be okay to believe. After all, Dean told himself as he finally followed after them, they deserve some happiness too. And in his own way, maybe he could help see that they found just that.


	10. Reaping What We Sow

Series Title: What If...

Fiction Title: Racing Towards Destiny

Chapter Title: Reaping What We Sow

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Series Title: What If...

Fiction Title: Racing Towards Destiny

Chapter Title: The Consequences Of Our Actions

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Story Rating: PG-13 to MA

Chapter Rating: PG-13

Genre: Crossover

Type: Romance, Angst

Pairing: Sam/ Max

Summary: One dream set her on a path of destiny.

Spoilers/ Timeline: This story would begin in Chapter 17- Coming Of Age

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first, please

A/N: This story, while being in the same universe as WiC, does not actually occur within that storyline. This fiction is just an off-shoot of what _**might**_have happened.

**Chapter Ten**

**Reaping What We Sow**

"So where did you and Dad go to this morning?" Sam asked as he and Max ambled together through the streets, heading toward a park that was situated nearby. Dean had driven them downtown, ostensibly to do some shopping. He'd headed straight to a music store, gave them a pointed look and disappeared inside. The poor guy had been alternating between absolute denial about them and a sort of sweet sentimentality about them being star-crossed lovers. Today he was obviously in a generous mood and they were quick to take advantage of it.

"Well, don't freak out or anything," Max grinned, her hands stuffed in her coat pocket, as were Sam's, "but he took me to a woman's clinic this morning." Sam stopped short, worry for her overriding everything else.

"You're okay, right? I mean, you're not-?"

"No, I'm not Sam," Max chuckled wryly, completely aware of his concerns, because she shared all of them as well. The risk of pregnancy was there but, "we've been pretty careful, you know." Sam nodded and caught up to her. They had been careful to remember to use a condom each and every time they'd had sex, but it was a method known to fail occasionally.

"So if it wasn't...?" he asked leadingly. Max paused at a street corner, waiting for traffic to clear so that they could cross the street.

"Well, you know I was talking to Molly last night?" Sam nodded. The last car turned the corner and the crosswalk light came on and they started again. "We talked some stuff over. She knows about us," Max announced and then hastily corrected herself. "I mean, she knows I've been seeing someone. Although, she'll probably figure it out."

"Oh really?" Sam mused. He found himself sort of hoping that she did. Max had long ago told Molly that she wasn't really John's daughter. The excuse Max had given her about abusive foster families prior to the Winchester's and their fear that Max would be taken away from them had been accepted and her admiration for John as a good father figure had grown.

"Well," Max blushed slightly, "I do talk a lot about you with her." Sam smiled. He wished that he had someone he could tell about Max, but it was nice in a way too, having a part of Max that no one else shared. As they made it to the park entrance, he reached for her hand and after a moment, they laced their fingers together. With a mutual unspoken desire, they headed towards some trees that would shield them from view of the road and other passers-by. "Anyway," Max continued, picking up the thread of conversation again, "we talked over a lot of things and she and I came to the conclusion that I should probably be on birth control of some sort." She grinned. "And not just for the usual reasons. I think that was the big thing for Dad."

"Dad knows!" Sam gasped, his eyes widening in panic. Max sank down gracefully in the partial shade of a tree and tugged on his hand until Sam sat as well.

"No!" she told him emphatically. "Molly promised that she wouldn't say anything. It was all _don't you suppose_ and _someday down the road_ and _responsible father's would_ type of thing." Sam choked on a little laugh as Max aptly mimicked Molly's gentle but firm tone of voice. "She pretty much had Dad thinking that it'd be the end of the world if he didn't do something quick."

Sam shook his head, unbelieving that his father could be that modern minded. "And he wasn't freaking out?" he asked mirthfully.

"Oh I didn't say that," Max giggled. "You should have seen him this morning. He was all fidgety and nervous and then the nurse came in and she started giving us this overview of what kind of exam the doctor would be doing. And I swear, his eyes rolled up in his head and he nearly fainted. And then he jumps up yelling 'sign something! Aren't I supposed to sign something?' So the nurse gives him the consent form, he signs it and voom... out the door." Sam laughed along with her for a moment before she sobered up. "I was honest with the doctor though."

"How so?" Sam asked as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, encouraging her to lean into him.

"Well, she had to do a physical exam," Max explained awkwardly. "I figured that she'd figure it out, since she was the expert, right?" Sam grinned and kissed the top of her bowed head.

"So why lie, right?"

"Exactly."

"So was the exam okay?"

"It wasn't all that comfortable," Max shrugged. "But I've lived through worse."

"And you're okay?" he asked again.

"Yes," Max confirmed. "We filled the prescription and I started taking them this morning. The doctor told me that it would take some time to take effect and suggested that we use back up methods up to that and throughout our relationship. Just to be sure."

"That makes sense," Sam nodded. "Combined methods are better than just one or the other."

"Yes," Max agreed, one hand moving to stroke at his thigh. "And now that we've thoroughly discussed that, why don't you tell me what's bothering you.

"You noticed huh?" Sam groaned softly.

"Of course I noticed," Max teased, looking up at him. "I notice everything about you."

"And that's what I love about you," Sam murmured, dropping a lingering kiss on her lips. She snuggled in close to him as he threaded one hand through her hair. Max pulled back and smiled gently.

"I love you too. Not quit stalling." Sam smirked, realizing that she was too astute to be distracted completely.

"Well," he began with another sigh, "this was something I was thinking about... before..." He said it softly, that word coming to mean for them, before they had discovered how they'd truly felt for one another.

"Okay," Max whispered hesitantly. "What is it?"

"You know that I did that SAT prep course this year?" She nodded. "Well I um, I actually took the SAT's."

"You did?" Now she sounded surprised. "When?"

"The last day of the course," Sam explained. "It wasn't final review, like I told Dad. That was one of the test dates." He let go of her to reach into his jacket pocket and withdrew a folded envelope. "I just got this back a few days ago." He handed it to her and she took it hesitantly. Slowly she opened it and pulled out a single sheet. She shook it open and smiled gently after reading it over.

"This is... it's an impressive score," she complimented him, though he could see that her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Yeah, I did better than I thought I would," he muttered, accepting the paper back from her.

Silence fell between them until Max muttered huskily, "there's more, isn't there?" Sam nodded, hating the way her eyes darted away from his, as though steeling herself for a blow.

"I also, um, picked up some college applications." Her eyes flew back to his, the hurt undisguised.

"You want to leave?" she cried accusingly.

"No!" Sam stated assertively and then softened his tone. "No. Not you, or us. It was the situation sweetheart. Being around you all the time, but not able to be with you. And it wasn't just that. The hunting, the constant moving around... I just couldn't see myself doing that for the rest of my life."

"But you still think that this is a good idea?" Max frowned.

"Maybe the only one we've got," Sam murmured. "I don't like it Max, but I can't think of anything else that will keep things from blowing up on us."

"Well if you'd at least listen to my theory on how to stop time," she joked weakly.

"You mean your theory that if we stop marking down the days on the calendar and ignore the seasons, we'll never get any older and things can stay the way that they are?" Sam teased.

"Yeah, that one," she muttered.

"Well, unfortunately, for that to work, you'd have to convince the rest of the world to go along with you, not to mention defy the laws of medicine and science and-!"

"I could do it," she scoffed indignantly. "Believe me, you're worth it." Sam felt a warmth creeping into his chest. If Max was making jokes, then that meant that she was at least willing to discuss this.

"I was thinking," he told her as he tugged her towards him. She allowed herself to be settled between his outstretched legs and rested back against his chest. "You know, Dad settled in Geraldine for school that year. Maybe he'd be willing to do that again."

"Maybe," Max hedged doubtfully. "But it was nice having a house to come home to. And having my own room was a novelty. I never had that before."

"Lucky you," Sam growled playfully. "I've always had to share a room with Dean. That I can remember anyway."

"Wouldn't it be great if we could each have our own room," Max giggled. "Think of the limitless privacy. No one would have to resort to hiding in the bathroom just to hear yourself think."

Sam snorted. "I'm not so sure about that. Dean'd probably take our doors off the hinges to make sure we weren't... misbehaving."

Max giggled again, but then she sobered up. "He's been... staring at us a lot lately, you know," she murmured, referring to Dean. "Most of the time, he looks worried."

"He is," Sam confirmed. "He and I have talked about it. It's mostly the age thing."

"Gah," Max snorted. "Who decided in their infinite wisdom that eighteen was some sort of magical number? The age gap will always be the same between us."

"I know," Sam soothed. "But with all these parents and lawmakers taking a hard line on this... I mean, in some cases, its been warranted, you can't deny that. But there's so much bad press, or well, not bad, you know what I mean. But it's easier to say one way and only that way instead of taking in the particulars of each and every relationship."

"Like ours," Max sighed, settling against him once more. "No one would bother to look and see that we fell in love and are much more level headed and responsible about things than some people twice our age,"

"Who says I'm level headed when it comes to you?" Sam demanded gently, caressing her cheek. She tilted her head around to look up at him and he took advantage of that. After several minutes, they broke for air and Sam smiled in a predatory manner. " There are some days that I wanna say to hell with everything and just disappear with you."

"That'd be nice," Max conceded. "But as always, the world would find a way to intrude." She gestured off to the distance and Sam, craning his neck, saw Dean, walking towards the park, obviously looking for them. Max made to get up, but Sam's gentle hands stalled her.

"Not yet," he murmured, holding her tightly. "Max, if we do this, if me going to college is what we decide to do," she nodded shakily, "then I don't want to waste one second of our time together, from now until then."

"Oh Sam," was all she was able to say as she turned and threw her arms around him.

It was how Dean found them a few minutes later. His loud snort and "figured I'd find you here," wasn't enough to separate them. But the impatient foot tapping and the "come one, let's go. It's not like you're never gonna see each other again!" worked amazingly. They broke apart and Dean was stunned by the misery on Max's face as she jumped up and hurried away from them. "What the hell is her problem?" he groused as Sam clambered to his feet.

"Dean," he announced, "you have all the sensitivity of a clod of dirt."

"Hey," Dean retorted, a little peeved that he was being thrust into the role of the bad guy. "Don't take it out on me because you and Max have to live in the real world. You know? The one that's not all sunshine and roses and happy little kittens."

"Yeah Dean, we know!" Sam spat. "That's what we've actually been sitting here doing. Trying to figure out a way to live with this. And you know what? There are no easy answers, because it's an impossible question. The only answer is to just stop, to just..." Sam broke off in frustration. Dean contemplated his brother for a moment, the tension lines in his forehead easing a little.

"Well," he spoke slowly. "It probably wasn't easy, but I am glad you guys came to your senses." Sam stared at his elder brother, incredulous. Did Dean really believe that this thing between he and Max was just some crush? A little fling to get out of their systems? Anger flared within him and he exploded.

"Screw you Dean! Sense? You know what my senses say?" Sam yelled. "They say to hell with tiptoeing around your feelings, or what Dad might say. Who cares if your feelings get hurt? Deal with it! But Max? I love her. And there is nothing in this world that I wouldn't do to keep her safe and happy. She's the important thing. She is what matters to me." He finished his rant, his chest heaving as he panted slightly. Dean's eyebrow quirked up.

"Wow," he drawled, startling Sam into calmness.

"What?"

"Sorry, it's just," Dean inhaled, knowing what a sore spot this was, but still, it needed to be said. "You have never in your life sounded so much like Dad as you did just then." He grinned as Sam blinked in surprise and then shakily laughed.

"Yeah. I guess I was sounding a little autocratic, wasn't I?" Sam conceded. Dean sighed. Sam's outburst had confirmed his suspicions. This was the real deal and it would have to be dealt with. But for now...

"Come on, let's go find Max before she wanders into traffic."

"She's not a child Dean," Sam snorted as he followed his brother.

"Yeah, well the law says otherwise," Dean scoffed.

"And since when have you been so concerned about being a law-abiding citizen?" Sam teased, though he knew full well that Dean was right.

"Since the law decided that it could burn my brother at the stake for his involvement with said child."

That conversation marked a turning point in Dean's attitude towards them as a couple. Where before, he'd been disturbed and hesitant, he now embraced it whole-heartedly. But for all that he kept his opinions to himself and ran interference when needed, all three were aware that reality was steadily marching on. The now non-magical, unyearned for coming of age for Sam was looming, now more than ever so before. It was like everything revolved around it. Was it better to tell John before or after? Was it better to be two kids in love, or mature responsible people trying to create a relationship? Did they stop trying to be together at all, or did they simply pull back a step that they'd already taken?

In the end, all they could do was take it one day at a time. Under the guise of studying for their final exams that would be administered through the Montana State Education board in mid-May, they began preparing for their future. With Max's help, Sam filled out applications to several different colleges, located around the country and writing up admission essays. They decided not to tell Dean or John yet about this idea, since Sam pointed out that he had to be accepted somewhere first. Max was quite sure that he would be. They also researched home options. House or apartment and areas to live in. They looked into everything they could, but figured in the end that it would have to be up to John.

And as Sam had promised his brother, he spent each moment he could making Max happy. Reassuring her that she didn't just have a place in his heart, she was his heart. And by the time Sam's birthday arrived, he knew that he would be fighting a losing battle to try and not be with her. They had discussed abstinence in detail. Sam had been touched when Max had told him that though their lovemaking was a huge and meaningful part of their relationship, it wasn't the relationship itself. She would much rather have what the world deemed acceptable, given their ages, than nothing of him at all. They also decided that if anything did happen between them, they wouldn't beat themselves up over it. After all, they knew the truth, no matter what the world, or more pointedly, John, would say.

Sam's birthday dawned, with a bright, clear sky that seemed to bring a promise with it that better days were ahead. John, untraditionally it seemed, did not have a hunt planned. And he was in no hurry to get anyplace. So they relaxed for most of the day. He had Dean confiscate their study books and told them to relax. They still had two weeks before their exams. But after an hour of fidgeting, Dean disappeared and half an hour later or so, reappeared with a handful of water guns. Max, fighting her aversion to even the plastic replicas, joined in the fun that ranged around the building and parking lot. It was even better when she found an old three gallon bucket. She directed Sam into creating a diversion while she dealt with the stealth attack from above.

After getting John and Dean completely doused with cold water and taunting Dean about still not learning his lesson about looking up, the pair converged on what they considered her exit strategy. But Max was prepared for that. Throwing the bucket down to Sam, who ran off to fill it again, she simply climbed and clambered her way down the side of the building. She joined Sam and crept around to the back of the motel. Dean was just climbing back down the fire escape, reporting that she'd vanished. They had no sooner turned around when they were doubly doused, as Sam was in possession of Max's water gun as well as his own.

But the duo realized their mistake as John and Dean were still fully loaded. They ran, ducking and dodging with Max using Sam as a shield more often than not. Until he turned on he with what little water he'd managed to save. She wrestled her water gun back from him while John and Dean laughed at them. By the time a truce was called, they were all equally soaked and just a little worn out. After drying off, they decided to head out and see what other amusements they could find. After a quick lunch, they ended up at an arcade. Dean tried to make Sam guess what his birthday gift was and though he played along with outlandish guesses, nothing in Sam's mind, could top the gift that his brother had given him the day before.

With the pretense of sending Sam and Max to research a local urban legend of a haunted ranch, the two had gone off. But when Sam and Max had arrived at what was supposed to be a deserted, run-down outcrop of buildings, they found instead a ranch resort. Figuring that maybe Dean had his information wrong, they went inside to check, only to be welcomed by name and handed an envelope and a room key. Dean had set the whole thing up, letting them know that John believed that they were simply going to be surprised with a day full of ranching activities. Their father was not aware that it was a fully capable resort, including guest rooms. He cautioned them not to let their ages slip and other than that, to have fun.

And so they'd happily gone off to the first activity after checking their room and finding that Dean had packed some things for them and delivered them to the ranch., They enjoyed first a trail ride. Max, pretending a nervousness and unfamiliarity with horses, was permitted to ride double with Sam, who had learned to ride in his youth. He wasn't at all upset about being able to snuggle with her for the two hour slow ride around the wilderness. Knowing that they'd be sore for the unfamiliar activity, Sam suggested changing into their swim suits and heading over to visit the natural hot springs located not far from the main hotel. After that, they'd returned to their room and had made love.

They'd just barely made it in time for the hayride and once again, were able to enjoy being with each other with no fear of censure. After the hayride, they were invited to the evening cookout, dance and bonfire which would signify the end of the days activities. They enjoyed the simple but delicious fare and chatted with the people that they'd met over the course of the day. They watched as the actual working cowboys put on lariat demonstrations, clapping at all the intricate tricks and laughing when somebody would be "accidentally" roped. When the band started up, they danced with each other even though they didn't know the steps and swayed with each other when the music was slow.

After awhile, they snuck a quilt from one of the wagons and crept away to make love under the twinkling star-filled night. And then it was back to the bonfire for roasted marshmallows and hot chocolate before they said farewell. And when they made it back to the motel to report in, they assured John and Dean that they had been all over the ranch, but whatever legend Dean had heard, there was absolutely nothing to it. They'd all had a good laugh. They tried to thank Dean later, privately, but he staunchly denied and disavowed any knowledge of their doings.

After they'd sated themselves at the arcade, the birthday fun ended up at a mini-golf course where Dean and Max got competitive, laughing, taunting and teasing each other. John and Sam played desultorily along after them, commenting on the duo with much good humor. Laughing at themselves when one would make a comment that the other had just been thinking. In the end, there was a tie, between John and Sam, since Max and Dean had been too busy harassing each other to keep proper score.

They ate that evening at an authentic pizza parlor, since that was what Sam was in the mood for. No one complained. When they finally made it back to the motel for Sam's gifts, they were worn down to mellowness. He was surprised to see that there was just one large package sitting on the bed. John warned him that they'd put everything together, simply because his father didn't feel like wrapping every single thing. Dean then warned Sam that if Sam didn't like the gifts, then to blame Max, since it had been her idea, even though they'd all chipped in for it. Sam assured them that he'd like it no matter what it was and began the task of unwrapping the box. When he flipped open the cardboard flaps at the top, he was surprised to see a truck manual sitting on top of some paper. He withdrew it, unable to say anything, trying to figure out the significance of it. He read the title and realized that it was for John's truck. His father let out an exaggerated 'whoops' and an "I'd been wondering where I'd put that."

Everybody laughed and Sam handed it over. He removed the layer of paper and blushed when he saw another book, a copy of the Kama Sutra. With a nervous laugh, he plucked it out and held it out to Dean. "Yours, I presume?"

"Dude, what the hell would I need that for?" Dean asked with an absolutely straight face. Sam risked a glance at his father and Max, also straight faced. "Although, there's this awesome picture!" Dean enthused, grabbing the book. He flipped through several pages before thrusting the book back at Sam. "See!" Sam tried to avoid it, protesting, but Dean finally had his way, laughing when Sam realized that it was text he was looking at and not dirty pictures. His eyes grew large when he read the chapter title about installing programs on a computer. He yanked the book back and removed the dust cover to reveal a copy of Computers For Dummies and that significance got him. He got busy ridding the box of all the extra packing as his family laughed over his antics. At the bottom, he found a top of the line laptop along with several different installation programs. He was awed and enthusiastic in his thanks, hugging everyone, especially Max, whose brainchild this had been.

They spent the rest of the evening setting up the computer, explaining different features about it to John. At bedtime, he had to be forcibly dragged away from it by Dean, exhibiting that typical 'just one more thing' compulsion the rest of the family displayed when it came to their personal obsessions. The next day, with the excitement over, they headed out on another hunt.

Tragedy almost struck when Max experienced a seizure while the creature, an afreet, turned the tables on them and began stalking Sam and Max after they became separated from John and Dean. The fear Sam experienced over the possibility of losing someone he loved, was so magnified that he had followed Max everywhere that he possibly could for several days. John became extremely suspicious at that point about his son's behavior, until Dean pointed out that it had happened to him as well, when they were younger and Sam had been in danger while John was away. Dean had felt responsible for Sam's close call. John did remember that and remembered how Dean had shadowed Sammy everywhere until Sam had finally complained to his father. He was able to accept that explanation, never knowing that Dean had a forcible little talk with his younger brother about cooling his concern down a few notches.

Sam tried and it helped that on the next hunt, Max was back to easily dealing out her typical demon ass-kicking. He contented himself with searching online medical databases, looking to find out something more they could do to alleviate her seizures. He never did find anything more, but at least understood more about what could cause them and some of the subtler warning signs.

Eventually, as a surprise for them, John had arranged for the pair to take their diploma exams in Geraldine, with Sam's old classmates, instead of in Great Falls, where they thought they'd be going. They spent a fairly pleasant week, staying in a motel in the nearby town of Fort Benton and driving back and forth each day. After each day's exams were complete, they visited with the friends that they'd made. They weren't surprised to find that Justine's family had grown again, since the girls still corresponded with one another. Max also knew that the Kimball family had moved away due to some misfortune and a nasty malpractice suit against the doctor. What was a surprise was finding that Sam's old teacher, Ms. Fowler, was now Mrs. Stapleton and expecting her first child. She'd been thrilled to see Sam back, citing him as one of the best students she'd ever taught. They were saddened to learn that the principal, Leo Thompson had retired from the school after having been diagnosed with cancer. He and his family had moved back closer to his family and he wasn't expected to make it much longer.

It was just clear that a lot of things had changed, even in a small town where change was anathema. One change that had both Max and Sam in desperate straits was how they were treated by former classmates. Where both had been loners, shy and studious, they had sort of been overlooked. But their sudden reappearance had been marked and their appealing physical attributes well noted. It was no problem for Dean, happy to re-acquaint himself with several old flames. But it was disconcerting for the younger two. More so for Sam than for Max. The girls in his class couldn't seem to resist his height, his puppy dog eyes and what have you. But Max? She had the eye of every boy from her class on up to Sam's and beyond.

The resulting jealousy had led to an argument that neither had really wanted to have. And it led to a make-up session that nearly blew their observance of abstinence to pieces. But eventually, the exam week came to an end and their bond to one another was stronger for the unexpected blow that it had been dealt. With the exam results promised within two weeks to their post office box in Lawrence, the family said farewell to Geraldine and headed out again.

After several more hunts, they made their way to the Midwest. John had found a hunt on the Kansas border to keep them busy while they awaited the results of their exams. When the appointed day came, Max and Sam volunteered to go get the mail. John nipped that in the bud, citing that Max would need the extra room to carry back the backlog of mail that they usually experienced. With a disappointed sigh, she headed off.

Once there, she was stunned to discover that Sam had five notices for registered letters. Providing her id, she was able to sign for them, as well as for her own two. Two of the letters were the expected exam results. The two in large manila envelopes with the words 'Do not bend' stamped on them and from the Montana State Education Board, were probably their diplomas. It was the letters, thick ones from Montana State University, Stanford and Northwestern that were causing her consternation.

Finally gathering up all the mail, Max left. She ended up at a small cafe with a cup of coffee, mechanically separating their mail into appropriate piles, while Sam's letters sat in the center of the table, a place of dubious honor for the harbingers of the end of the world as she knew it. After the mail had been sorted for each of them, with the instant discards of junk mail in its own pile, Max fingered the envelopes addressed to her boyfriend. She had to quell the urge to simply throw them out. She, as much as she hated the thought of Sam going off to college, of seeing so much less of him, knew she couldn't do that to him. He wanted this for more reasons than as just a resolution to their dilemma. With a heavy sigh, she gathered them together and slipped them into a clothing catalog that was in the junk pile. She then added the catalog to her own pile, figuring that if she were asked, she could make the excuse that she saw an outfit she liked in it. She'd give him the letters later, in private.

Knowing that John would want her back straightaway, she finished her coffee. She bundled everything up that she was taking back to the motel into the bag she'd brought, dumped the trash and left the cafe. Her cell phone rang when she was several miles out of Lawrence, John calling to check up on her. She relayed her position and then John asked if their exam notices were in. She confirmed that they had arrived, but hadn't opened hers yet. When he exhibited surprise at that, she wryly informed him that she just wasn't as concerned about what a standardized test said about her intelligence. A diploma was just a piece of paper. Though concerned, knowing how hard she and Sam had been studying, John let the matter drop.

Max arrived back at the motel, to be greeted by Sam. Forewarned by his father that something was bothering her, he had it confirmed by the haunted look in her eyes and the lowly spoken "not now. Later," she gave him. He helped her carry in the mail and she dutifully handed out the separate packages. These were set aside when she drew out the plain white envelopes that contained their test scores. She passed Sam his and then sat on the corner of a bed, her own envelope untouched in her lap. Shrugging mentally at her behavior, Sam tore open his envelope and withdrew the paper. His eyes scanned the numbers and he let out a relieved breath.

"I passed," he announced unnecessarily, as everyone had been sure that they would both pass. "High nineties on everything," he told them as he passed the paper to John, who happily confirmed his son's achievement with his own eyes. Max was busily rummaging in her bag again.

"This came along with it," she announced as she pulled out the manila envelope with Sam's name on it. Sam gave her a puzzled look as he worked on opening it. He withdrew the heavy sheet, stamped and signed in all the proper places. "I was pretty sure you passed when I saw that." She flopped backwards on the bed, tossing her white envelope away from her. The three males shared a concerned look and Dean cleared his throat.

"Uh Max? Aren't you going to open that?"

"Why bother?" she mumbled. They shared another look.

"Didn't you uh... get a-?" Dean asked hesitantly. There were frowns directed at him and he shut up. John reached for the envelope, as it was almost ready to fall off the bed.

"Sweetie," he said, "whatever scores you got, we're proud of you. We know you tried your best." Sam frowned then. It would have been near impossible for Max to fail those tests, unless she'd done so deliberately.

"Proud enough to have this framed?" she questioned as her hand snaked back into the bag and pulled out her large rectangular envelope. She sat up, a wide grin on her face as John laughed, swatting at her leg with the envelope he still held. At their encouragement, she checked the scores. High nineties and even perfect scores in math and science. As John and Dean congratulated her and admired the newest diplomas, Sam realized that he was the only one that saw that Max's mirth was forced. And what, he wondered, could have stolen that from her?


	11. Breaking The Unbreakable

Title: What If... Racing Towards Destiny

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Rating: PG-13- MA

Genre: Crossover

Type: Romance

Pairing: Max Guevara/ Sam Winchester

Summary: What if... Max had been having a different dream?

Spoilers/ Timeline: This starts when Max is thirteen and going into heat for the very first time.

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first please.

A/N: This story, while being in the same universe as _When It Changes_, does not actually occur within that storyline. This fiction is just an off-shoot of what **might **have happened.

**Chapter Eleven**

**Breaking The Unbreakable**

"Max, what's wrong?" Sam asked, cornering her away from Dean and John , speaking quietly.

"It's nothing Sam," she answered, equally as quiet.

"I know something's bothering you," Sam tried again, trying for sympathetic. "Can't you talk to me about it?"

"Hey guys?" John called from the front door. "Eat out or order in?" Both he and Dean waited expectantly.

"Eat out," Max answered, even as Sam said the opposite.

"Order in!" Wary glances were exchanged all around. John tilted his head towards the door and Dean immediately understood his intentions.

"We're gonna go for a drive," John announced. "Call me when you two figure out what you want to do." He followed after his eldest. The message was clear. Sort out whatever was wrong between them so that they didn't end up with a repeat of their last stand-off. Max watched the door until the sound of the Impala's engine had faded away. She moved around Sam and sat on the bed, spreading her mail around her. Sam knelt before her trying to catch her eye.

"Max? What is it? Did I do something to upset you?" he asked earnestly and her startled eyes swung around to meet his. Her face softened, to a tremulous smile. She framed his face with her hands and gave him a lingering, reassuring kiss.

"No, it wasn't you," she informed him. She half turned and began rummaging through the pile of papers. "It's just, I wasn't expecting this so soon and it threw me." Sam watched her, puzzled as she withdrew a clothing catalog from her ream of mail.

"Expecting what?" he asked. "The exam results?"

"No. These," Max answered as she tipped several letters onto her lap. Sam caught them before they fell to the floor. He frowned in consternation as he realized that they were all addressed to him and where they were from.

"Oh man," he sighed. It all made sense now. "We knew this was coming," he told her softly. "But honestly, I was hoping it would be later too." That admission softened her even further and she kissed him again. He dropped the letters, much preferring to pull her closer, melding themselves together as her lips parted beneath his. It was several long minutes before they reluctantly broke apart, studying each other with loving eyes.

Finally Max whispered," you should open those." Nodding, Sam gathered them up again and took a seat at the head of the bed. He held his hand out to her and she joined him, settling between his legs, leaning back against his chest. She never told him and never seemed to have to, that she felt a sense of safety and surety when he held her like that. As if, with him wrapped around her, nothing bad in this world could touch her. She had the sneaking suspicion that Sam liked it for similar reasons. She watched as his long fingers separated the envelopes and he chose one at seeming random. Together they read his entrance had been granted at Montana State University, which offered several locations to choose from.

"Montana would be good," Max murmured. "We already have friends there."

"That's true," Sam conceded quietly. "We know the area, at least Great Falls. I don't remember Billings." Max took the brochures that had been included and fanned them out in her hand.

"Any specific programs they offer that you'd be interested in?"

"Mm, nothing specific," Sam sighed. "It was mostly the location." She nodded and took the letter from him, folding everything together again as neatly as before. She set that one aside and waited patiently for Sam to choose another. Northwestern, though printed on heavier and fancier paper, read almost word for word with Montana, which made them both smile. Again they debated the merits. Lastly, Sam picked up the letter from Stanford, just as thick as the other two. Sam withdrew several sheets of papers and pamphlets. Again, the words of acceptance were a relief. And before Max could even begin to ask what would draw him there, Sam was setting aside the letter and flipping through the pamphlets. Max smiled indulgently. Before now, he'd never betrayed a preference, but now she knew.

"So you're liking Stanford, huh?"

"Well," Sam hedged, grinning. "They've got a lot of good programs."

"Not to mention, sunny California."

"Good weather year round is a nice bonus."

Max chuckled as she picked up the letter and ran her finger over the school emblem. And then, wondering why there were several sheets, she rifled through them, her eyes widening as she read the information imparted on them. "Oh my God," she whispered. "Sam? Look!"

"What sweetie?" he asked distractedly, still poring over a pamphlet.

"Sam! They're offering you a scholarship!"

"What?"

Max dislodged herself to turn and face him. "Mrs. Stapleton wrote to them on your behalf, requesting a scholastic achievement scholarship. It says here that if your grades meet their requirements, you'll have the scholarship. Here! Read it!" She thrust the paper at him and his eyes scanned it rapidly.

"I can't... Wow," he mumbled. He looked up at Max. "I told her that I was thinking of applying there. I can't believe she did this!"

"Oh Sam," Max grinned as she hugged him. He was elated as well. A scholarship was a huge weight off their shoulders. He didn't relish the idea of large student loans. And it would be a selling point with John, Sam hoped. "So?" Max asked as she pulled back. "Stanford then?"

"Well," Sam chewed at the corner of his lip. "It was my first choice."

"Then you should take it," Max announced. Sam nodded slowly as if hardly daring to believe that this was happening. "It kind of feels good, doesn't it?" Max continued. "To have at least one thing figured out."

"Yeah it does."

"But now, here's another question. When do you tell dad?" It was a heavy question to debate. In the end, Sam decided that the sooner he told John, the better, to give his father time to get used to the idea. That decided, Max called them to let them know that they'd be eating out, though not saying why they had decided on that. John asked if everything had been settled between them and Max told him that it had been a necessary conversation, not a fight. And that Sam would tell them about it at dinner.

Taking John's truck, they arrived at the restaurant that the others had chosen. The older Winchester's were already seated, their drinks before them. Sam could see that they were eager to discover what was going on, but the waitress arrived to take Max and Sam's drink orders the moment they sat down. They both ordered coffee, though John frowned at Max and then decided the argument wasn't worth it. Instead, he turned his gaze to his son, leaning forward in his seat.

"All right, what's going on?"

Sam sighed quietly and slowly returned his menu to the table. "It's nothing bad," he assured his father, removing the letters he'd brought with him and sliding them over to his father. "I just got these in the mail today." John spread the envelopes apart, taking in the names of the senders and what they meant.

"You applied to college?" he asked softly and Sam nodded.

"And I was accepted. Those ones anyways. I haven't heard from the other two yet."

There was silence as John studied the envelopes again. Dean, looking from his brother to his sister, was rapidly putting things together in his mind. He wasn't sure if he was relieved or not. Sam had said that they'd figured out a way to handle their relationship, but leaving? For several years? Admittedly, it wasn't the worst idea in the world. As much as Dean liked having his family together, Sam and Max were a time bomb just waiting to explode. The decision made, he pasted a huge grin on his face that wasn't totally fake and clapped his brother on the back.

"Dude! That's awesome!" he congratulated Sam, very aware of the gratitude on his little brother's face. "Where'd you get in?"

"MSU, Great Falls or Billing, Northwestern and Stanford," Sam informed him as Dean nodded. It wasn't really in his scope of interest, but he still recognized that two were very prestigious schools. Sam turned back to look at his father. "Look Dad, I know you're probably not thrilled about this-!"

"Who says I'm not?" John grunted. "Of course I'm-! This is great Sam. I'm proud of you! It's just the part of you leaving that I wouldn't like."

Sam nodded, his tongue darting out to moisten nervously dry lips. "I wouldn't really like it either. That's uh, that's why I was thinking we could do like we did in Geraldine. You know, settle down in one place. I could go to school and you can go on hunts."

John frowned, considering the idea just presented to him. He was about to respond, but the waitress returned to take their orders. As the others hastily decided what they wanted, Dean rattled off his order automatically. Sam's idea was a good one, but for one major flaw that he saw instantly. Money. And it was this issue that John addressed as soon as the woman had left the table.

"Sam," he began quietly, "I would really like for you to be able to go. But the idea just isn't feasible for so long a time. It's just money we don't have."

"It's not as bad as you think," Max finally spoke up, leaning forward as well. "Sam got a scholarship."

"What?" John's eyebrows furrowed as his gaze swung around to stare at the envelopes again.

"At Stanford," Sam informed him. "It's a scholastic merit award. Ms. Fowler, I mean, Mrs. Stapleton applied for it on my behalf."

"Wait," Dean interrupted. "They're gonna give you money just for being smart?" Sam grinned and nodded. "Whoa! How much we talking about here?" Max obligingly slid the information over to him and his eyes widened as he read the amount. "Dude! We should have done this a long time ago."

"With what? Your brain?" Sam smirked. "Yeah, I suppose some spare change would've come in handy."

John ignored the boys banter, taking back the scholarship information and reading it over himself. The amount was impressive. But it wasn't just about money for school. "That's enough boys," he spoke gently, but it was enough to bring an immediate halt to their antics. He waited until he had his son's full attention. "Sammy, this is impressive," he remarked, gesturing to the letter. "But it would only cover so much. Settling down somewhere entails a lot of things. Rent being the main thing. To support this, I'd have to get a full time job and I just can't do that and hunt as much as I need to," Sam inhaled sharply. "Right now," John continued. "I'm saying right now. There's too many... things happening. Who knows what might happen a few years from now. I don't want you to give this up completely. I'm just saying that I can't see a way for it to work at this point. Do you understand?" Sam frowned, but yes, he did understand his father's position, even if he didn't necessarily agree with it.

"I understand," he conceded. "But Dad? If we figure out some way...?"

"Then I'll definitely consider it," John assured him with a half-smile. "Now, unless someone else has some other announcement?"

"Um," Max coughed and hesitantly held up her hand, looking around meekly. When all eyes were on her, she continued. "I just thought you should all know that I secretly entered the beauty pageant circuit. And my handler thinks that I'd be a shoo-in for Miss America in three years. But I'd have to represent a uh, woefully underpopulated state. So he recommends that we move... to Alaska!" The three men goggled at her until she grinned and wiggled her nose at them. The laughter that greeted the waitress as she brought their appetizers was uproarious.

"So have you come up with anything yet?" Dean asked of his brother, as Sam sat at the motel table, perusing the screen of his laptop. Max and John were out at the county courthouse, checking records.

"Yeah," Sam muttered. "You were right about the patterns. Three different cycles throughout the years, but I still haven't found what-!"

"No college boy," Dean interrupted, snorting with amusement. "I meant with the school thing?" Sam blinked and glanced away from the screen, quickly orienting himself to the new topic of conversation.

"Yeah, actually we did," he enthused. "Max found a great site about different federal grants and stuff that I can apply for over and above the scholarship. You know, to cover housing and stuff. And we were thinking, if we were careful with the money, we could get like a two bedroom apartment."

"I don't know Sam," Dean sighed. "Settling in California, that's an awful long drive to some of our cases."

"I know," Sam grunted. "But there's nothing that says you'd have to drive all the way back every single time. You could work your way back and forth across the country and have a place when you need it." Dean mulled it over. By damn, the kid had come up with a workable solution.

"When would you know about the money?"

"That's the tough part," Sam sighed. "There's only a five day window of applications for these things. And because they're federal, each state only gets a certain amount alloted to it. And I wouldn't be the only person applying for it."

"So no guarantees, huh?"

"There rarely are," Sam rolled his eyes. "But Max is working on some other ways of coming up with some money."

"Like what?" Dean wondered aloud.

"I think she said something about the stock market," Sam grinned.

Dean's lips curved up at the corners. "Hey, we shouldn't scoff at her money making skills. She is the one who bankrolled a brand new motorcycle in what... a month?"

"Yeah there is that. And you know, I can always get a part time job."

Dean frowned. "No. The whole point of you going to college is to learn, not run yourself ragged trying to make ends meet."

"Ah," Sam sighed mockingly, "I didn't know you cared so much."

Dean shook his head with a snort and Sam turned back to his computer. Dean chewed at the corner of his lips for a moment. "You know Sammy," he spoke carefully, "I'm not totally thrilled with the family... going our separate ways, you know?" Sam glanced at him. "But I... admire how you're handling this with Max." Sam eyed him thoughtfully.

"Yeah," he finally agreed. "I mean, it's not perfect and not exactly what we wanted, but at least this way, we'd have some time. We'd get to see each other occasionally."

"Yeah," Dean concurred.

"But do you know what I really like about this?" Sam grinned. Dean eyed him warily, his body tensing as he sensed an overtly touchy-feely moment coming on.

"What?" he asked guardedly. Sam leaned forward, his elbows on his legs.

"I just really keep thinking about how I'll have my own room and my own bed and how-!"

"Whoa!" Dean yelled. "Too much info there Romeo!"

"-won't have to put up with your raggedy snoring butt!" Sam finished with a laugh over Dean's protests.

"Excuse me?" Dean hissed playfully. "I'll have you know that no one would say I snore because of the chainsaw _I_ have to share a bed with, bitch!"

"Jerk!"

"Oh for crying out loud!" Max snorted as she and John returned many minutes later to see the boys tumbling about the room, wrestling with each other. "Isn't it just typical that we're out bustin' our butts and they've been playing this whole time?" she asked of John. He just smiled good-naturedly.

"Take it back!" Dean snorted as he finally managed to get a decent hold on his brother.

"Can't take back the truth," Sam laughed as he tried to wriggle free. "You snore Dean. Get over it!"

"Better break it up boys," John warned, "before she gets the ice water." They both glanced up at Max, with her arms crossed, foot tapping, her eyebrow quirked up at them.

"I hate to break it to you boys, but you both snore," Max announced. The brothers exchanged amused glances.

"This coming from she who rattles the roof?" Dean scoffed.

"Hey! I do not snore," Max protested.

"Actually you do," Dean insisted, "when you actually, you know, sleep?" Max's glance darted to Sam and she arched an eyebrow at him.

"Sorry sweetie, but you do." He bit his tongue as soon as the endearment slipped out, but John didn't seem to notice because the older man was watching Max work herself into a snit. Her hands went to her hips as she squared off with the boys.

"Okay, I may purr like a kitten, on occasion, but I DO NOT snore."

"Don't you mean growl like a mountain lion?" Dean smirked. Max pursed her lips, smirked a little herself and leaned forward slightly.

"Do you _really_ want to get into this with me?" she asked archly. Sam, suppressing his smile, yanked at his brother's arm and spoke quickly.

"No ma'am, we surely do not."

"All right then," she smiled, contentedly and moved to take a folder from John. Dean sniffed, as if offended. "I coulda taken her," he announced in a loud whisper.

"Only in your dreams Dean."

"All right," John chuckled. "What have you boys come up with?" he asked, bringing an end to the amusing diversion.

"Hey Max?" Dean called for her attention quietly, several hours later.

"Yeah?" she glanced up from the papers she was poring over. Dean glanced at where John and Sam were looking over information on the computer.

"I was wondering if you wanted to take a little road trip with me tomorrow?

"And do what?" she asked, also quiet.

"I'll explain it all tomorrow, but I was thinking of doing something for Sammy."

Her face instantly darkened. "What are you planning now?" she demanded harshly.

"Ouch! You wound me," Dean pouted. "Look, it's nothin' bad, I promise. And you don't have to help."

"No," Max grinned. "I'll go, if only to keep an eye on you." He nodded and patted her on the leg before returning to his own research.

Once again, Max was sitting in the Impala, on an errand with Dean with no real clue as to what was going on. "So you gonna tell me what you're up to?" Max demanded.

"Oh, it's no big deal," Dean shrugged. "I was just thinking that it'd be nice for Sam to have a little something. You know, to show how proud we are of him."

"That would be nice," Max agreed. "What were you thinking of?"

"Well, I wasn't really sure at first," Dean sighed. "I thought of a lot of stuff. But none of it really meant anything, you know? And then I thought of this." He took one hand off the wheel to dig through his pocket and withdrew a small box. He held it out and Max took it. She pulled the lid off and wondered why he would want to give Sam a misshapen, charred lump of silver. But its familiarity tugged at her mind and she gasped audibly.

"Was this-?"

"Mom's wedding band?" Dean finished for her. "Yeah. One of the few things that survived the fire." He paused, his eyes sternly on the traffic. "I figured he'd like that. Having something of Mom's. You know, she'd be thrilled about him going to college."

"Of course," Max agreed, her eyes misty. "What mother wouldn't?"

Dean snuck a glance at her and snorted. "Hey! Don't go gettin' all girly on me." She straightened up with a smile and returned the lid to the box.

"Right. Sorry. So we're on our way to do what?"

"Well, I found a place that can resize it, fix it up," he explained. "I mean, he might not want to wear it, but just in case..." Dean didn't tell her what he was truly thinking. He doubted that Sam would wear the ring and the truth was, Dean didn't mean for Sam to do so. Because really, who better to wear a woman's ring, than a woman. Not that he was thinking that Sam should propose! No, he was thinking more along the lines of like, a promise ring. That was the sort of traditionalist crap that his brother was into. And he didn't have to give her that specific ring. No, today's mission was getting information. Max's ring size, the sort of thing she liked. That way, if Sam needed a nudge in the right direction, his big brother would be there as always to guide him.

Once at the mall, he led the way to the jewelry store. He was happy to see that both employees in the store were busy with other customers. He stopped to loiter at one of the glass counters that housed some of the ring collections. He let his eyes wander over the sparkling, twinkling jewels. He let out a low whistle at some of the rocks.

"Hey, look at that Maxie," he whispered, gesturing to a large square-cut diamond. She barely glanced at it and gave a distracted murmur. "Oh come on," Dean complained. How could he figure out what Max liked if she wouldn't cooperate? "You can't tell me that not one of these rings doesn't set your little heart blazing with greed?"

Max laughed at that. "Oh, I'm allowed to be a girl now?" she demanded. Dean frowned at her.

"Huh?"

"I'm supposed to like girly things, but not indulge in the emotions that go along with my gender?" she asked teasingly.

"Exactly," Dean huffed. "I'm glad you finally figured that out." Max laughed again and leaned over to look at the ring that Dean had indicated.

"It's okay," she pronounced quietly. "A little gaudy though."

"Oh? What do you like better?" Max's eyes roamed over the case as she shrugged. But then something caught her eye and she moved down the case a little way. Dean trailed after her.

"Look at these," she enthused, gesturing at a grouping of rings. Several of the bands, though silver or gold, were without jeweled enhancement. Most had small diamonds or other gems surrounded by intricate designs.

"Ah," a new voice intruded. "I see you found our _Ashley_ collection," a middle aged man announced. Dean and Max glanced up at his arrival. "They're very popular with the younger generation. Just perfect for the young lady starting her collection," he added enticingly, but Max blushed and shook her head.

"I was just looking," she murmured.

"Oh but there's no harm in a closer look if something has caught your fancy," he encouraged as he unlocked the sliding door, ready to serve.

"Go ahead Maxie," Dean encouraged as well, giving her a slight nudge. Max smiled softly and gestured at a row of rings.

"Those are nice," she offered and the gentleman reached in, his hand hovering. "The blue and silver one," Max told him. He smiled as his hand descended.

"Yes, _Ashley Entwined_ we call this one." He pulled the tray out and set it on the glass counter. "Hm, you'd be about a size six," the man murmured.

"Oh, I don't know," Max exclaimed, exchanging a puzzled glance with Dean. "I've never really worn rings before."

"Don't worry," the employee assured her. "It's easy enough to discover. If I may?" He had pulled a long thin strip of paper from his pocket and gestured to Max's hand. She obliged and he quickly measured both middle fingers and ring fingers on each hand. "You are perfectly matched," he smiled. "Size six and six and a half. We often find slight variations between hands," he explained as he worked the proper ring free from the foam setting. He slid it onto her right hand, holding her loosely as he began to describe the properties and design significance of the ring.

"And it doesn't hurt that blue happens to be Sammy's favorite color, huh Maxie?" Dean teased, nudging her shoulder again. "Her boyfriend," he explained to the clerk in a loud whisper.

"Ah," their server exclaimed with a knowing smile at the blushing girl. Max gave him another shy smile as she removed the ring and handed it back to him.

"Thank you," she murmured and then turned to Dean. "Meet you at the food court?"

"All right," Dean nodded and waited until she had moved away. The employee, finished putting the tray back, waited expectantly. "Her boyfriends' going off to college," Dean explained. "She's a little down." He glanced down thoughtfully at the ring she'd admired. "I'll have to drop a hint or two his way. But actually, I'd called earlier about having a ring repaired?"

The man's face brightened as he made the connection. He quickly locked the case they were at. "If you'll come with me sir, we'll get the work order filled out so we can begin." He led Dean to sit at a small table off in the corner of the store. He pulled a pad of papers and a pen from a drawer on his side. "I believe you said that the ring had been in a fire?"

"Yeah," Dean concurred, his voice slightly husky as he withdrew the box from his pocket. He handed it over, saying as he did, "it was my mom's."

The man threw him a sympathetic look, catching the words as he accepted the box with a low murmured, "my condolences." Dean barely acknowledged it. The ring was studied, the jeweler fetched. He assured Dean that he could return the ring to wearable use, although there could be some alteration to the width. It would be accomplished in two days. The salesman tore off Dean's copy of the work order, rummaged for another moment in another drawer, extracted a pamphlet and handed both to Dean.

"What's this?" Dean asked, looking at the pamphlet.

"Just a... helpful hint," the guy said with a smile and small nod. Dean caught the title, the girl's name and he grinned as well. Visual reference, always a good thing. Dean thanked him with a grin and then headed off to find Max. When they got back to the motel, Dean waited until Max went off to bathe and John was occupied. He took a seat near Sam, making a slight show out of clearing out his jacket pockets. He let the pamphlet slide to the bed cover, pretending not to notice it.

"What's this?" Sam asked as he picked up the glossy paper.

"Huh?" Dean muttered casually.

"Something you want to tell me?" Sam teased as he studied the pictures of girl's rings.

"Where'd that come from?" Dean tried to inject a note of surprise into his voice.

"You tell me," Sam grinned. "It was in your coat."

"Oh hey," Dean pointed at one of the rings pictured. "There's that ring that Max liked." Sam stared at his brother a moment before shaking his head and folding the pamphlet back up.

"Dean, your hints have all the subtlety of a Mack truck."

Dean grunted. "Okay, so the hinting needs work. But remember who was complimenting who on the advice, little bro."

"It's whom Dean," Sam corrected automatically. Dean gave him a playful shove and Sam went back to what he had been doing. But Dean noticed how his eyes strayed to the glossy flyer and how when he gathered up his papers, the sheet was tucked in with them instead of being thrown away.

When Dean received the call that his mother's ring was ready, he invited Max to come along with him once again. Sam and John had had another terse go around the evening before about the college thing and it was like walking on eggshells the next day. By the mutinous looks on both of their faces, Dean figured that another blowout was imminent. And frankly, Dean was getting tired of playing referee between them. Max, probably sensing the same tension that he was, agreed to go with alacrity. They took their time, hoping that by the time they returned, the air would be a lot clearer between father and son. They just had to give it plenty of time.

Dean and Max meandered through the mall, stopping to look at anything that caught their interest. It was late morning by the time they finally wandered into the jewelry store. The same man, Brian, according to the receipt Dean had, greeted them and retrieved the ring. Dean, looking it over, was happy with the results and paid for the service done, while Max once again looked over the different sets of jewelry Her eyes, Dean noticed, did happen to linger more often on a certain specific tray.

He treated her to lunch at one of the mall's fast food kiosks and she asked if he minded her doing a little clothes shopping. She needed to replace some jeans that were getting too ragged for her to wear anymore. Dean didn't mind and they arranged to meet in an hour.

She was just back in time, carrying not one, but several bags. She'd gotten her jeans, she informed him and then found a sale on silk screened T-shirts. She just had to show him what she'd picked out. He grimaced over the first, a baby blue Tee with a picture of a God-awful baby monkey on the front. He wondered what the hell she'd been thinking until she turned it around to show him very aptly, the back of the shirt, with the monkey's hind end shown , its tail straight up in the air and the words 'locked and loaded' underneath. They had a good laugh. Next was a white shirt with a purply silhouette of a wolf baying at the moon. She dug around the bag and pulled out a black and white AC/DC shirt. And lastly was her favorite. A black T-shirt with the words 'girls kick ass' emblazoned across the chest in sparkling silver. Dean appropriately admired her choices, how could he not and then asked if there was anything else she needed to do. There wasn't, so they decided it was time to head back to the motel.

They laughed and joked on the way back. Max admired how Mary's ring had turned out. They talked of the next hunt that John had lined up, speculating on what they'd be hunting. Max was relating some of the more outlandish things that she and Sam had come across while searching online as Dean pulled into the motel, alongside the truck. They were just climbing out of the car when the motel door was jerked open and John emerged. He looked startled, to see them so suddenly, but as his gaze fell on Max's face, his own darkened drastically and he strode to his truck and left without a word to either of them. They watched as he sped away, shared a wary glance and headed to their room. What they found only furthered their surprise.

Sam was packing his duffel bag.

"We packin' up man?" Dean asked as casually as he could. Sam shook his head, his back still to them. "Oh, just doin' a little reorganizing then huh?" Sam stilled and Max moved to his side.

"Sam?" she asked. "What happened?"

"He knows," Sam murmured, staring down at the bag before him. He turned his head just a fraction of an inch as he clarified, "about us." Max inhaled sharply. She didn't need to ask to know that things had gone badly.

"And Dad finally finding out leads to you packing your bags, how?" Dean demanded. In truth, he felt relief that John finally knew the truth. He didn't like lying to his father and did so only because it wasn't his secret to tell and they weren't endangering anyone with what they were doing.

"He kicked me out," Sam explained slowly, as if it were still unreal to him.

Max gasped and let out a small "no!"

"He wants me gone before he gets back," Sam continued and Max cried out again, her arms reaching for him. He accepted her embrace, resting his chin on her head.

Dean scoffed. "There's gotta be some mistake. Didn't you tell him-!"

"I told him everything," Sam broke in angrily. "We were fighting about college again, how he couldn't understand why I was so determined to go now. So I told him... about everything. But after certain things... he just refused to listen anymore."

"But that's not fair," Max cried softly, pulling back. "Why is he blaming you and punishing you? This isn't something you just _did_ to me."

"But that's just it," Sam's face was a mask of pain. "I'm older and I should have known better." He and Max stared at one another.

"Dude," Dean broke in hastily, "don't. You just need to give Dad time to calm down. Give him some time to accept this."

"I don't think he will Dean," Sam shook his head wearily. "Not if I'm here. He's just going to keep simmering about it. I think its better... if I leave now," he concluded, his arms tightening around Max as she gave another muffled protest. Dean leaned against the wall, his thoughts swirling around his mind rapidly. Sam was right. Their father held a grudge like no one else in the world they knew. And if Sam stayed, they would constantly be fighting. And he and Max would always be caught in the middle. He swore mentally. Once again there was no easy answer. He pushed away from the wall and caught Sam's eye, gave him a knowing look and left the motel room. He didn't go far, just out to the car, to give them some privacy so they could say their farewells.

Sam looked haggard as he finally emerged half an hour later from the motel, his bags in hand. He set one bag down and pulled the door shut behind himself. With his other hand, he stuffed something into his jacket pocket.

"What's that?" Dean asked as he straightened up and approached his brother.

"Max gave me some money," Sam explained. "Insisted upon it, actually. Said she didn't want me homeless and starving."

Dean gave a sketchy smile and then nodded to the car. "Hop in," he directed. "I'll give you a ride to the bus station."

"No, it's okay, I'll walk," Sam declined and turned to glance at the door he'd just shut. "I don't think she should be alone right now."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Dean decided. "So, I guess this is goodbye then?" he muttered, not meeting his brother's eyes.

"Just for now," Sam managed to smile. He held out his hand and Dean took it, shook it once and then yanked his brother into a hug.

"You take care of yourself Sammy," he muttered thickly. "Because if anything happens to you, I will come to Stanford and happily kick your ass!" He let go, but held the back of Sam's neck, shaking him lightly, looking him straight in the eye. "And then I'll turn Max loose on you!" Sam grinned. It was a worthy threat. But he sobered up quickly.

"You'll take care of her? Right Dean?" he asked in a small voice. Dean furrowed his eyebrows and glared at his brother, as if he really had to ask.

"Hey! It's what I do, right?"

Sam smiled again. "I'm really going to miss you Dean."

"Yeah," Dean sniffed once. "But you know, you can't miss me until you're gone." Sam nodded and stooped to pick up his bag. He gave Dean a tight smiled and resolutely walked away.

Dean watched until his brother had faded from sight before he re-entered the motel room. Max was sitting on the bed closest to the door, her gaze resting on the floor. Dean took a seat next to her. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. It took several long minutes before she finally gave way to the tears that shook the bed with their intensity. It lasted for a long while before her sobs slowed to hiccuping.

"Hey now," Dean told her gently, resting his cheek on her head. "Now Sammy told me I had to take care of you, so I'm just wondering... you think you'll keep springing a leak like this often?"

Max pushed away from him and gave a weak, wry chuckle as she mopped her eyes and face dry with the sleeve of her shirt. "I guess I'll survive," she muttered weakly. "It's what we do, right?"

"Damn straight!" Dean answered evenly and then more softly, "just give it time Maxie. Things'll get better."

He was wrong. After a month, things had deteriorated even worse than he knew, or would have known if it hadn't been for a timely call from his little brother. Dean was aware of course, that John was still barely talking to Max. The old man just didn't seem to know what to say. Right after he'd come back after Sam had left, they'd gone on the hunt he had arranged. But for the next one, he'd sent Max and Dean on their own while he took care of some other business. What it had been, he wouldn't say and Dean had his suspicions. But when he'd met up with them, Max had been on the phone with Sam and it had brought whatever anger that had lingered, back to the forefront.

More often than not, he'd pass directives through Dean, until Dean got tired of it and refused to continue. John got around that by simply announcing when things needed to be done. Max eventually figured that if Dean's name wasn't in there somewhere, then John meant for her to take care of it. The funny thing about the situation though, was that Dean honestly thought that John was having a tougher time of the pair. Max had himself and Sam to bolster her spirits, but John? He just pushed them all away.

But Sam's wake-up call scared the crap out of Dean and he resolved to deal with it immediately. He found his father at the bar, nursing a beer. Dean took a seat next to John and signaled the bartender for a beer and withdrew a folded piece of paper from his coat. He ran his finger along the folded edge and waited until the bartender slid his beer to him, took the cash and moved away.

"I just thought you should know," he began quietly, "that Max packed up and left." He took a large gulp of the chilled liquid as John's head snapped around, his startled eyes meeting his son's.

"What?" he demanded fearfully.

"And don't worry," Dean continued relentlessly. "She's not racing off to be with Sammy. No, she doesn't want to give you another excuse to hate him. Nope, she's gonna stay out of the way, only God knows where." Dean threw the paper to the bar and John's hand dove for the supposed missive. His features went from horrified, to puzzled and then angry as he realized that the paper was blank. He scowled and let the paper flutter down to the bar.

"That wasn't funny Dean," he grunted, staring straight ahead again.

"Yeah, I didn't think so either," Dean growled, slamming his beer back to the bar and turning in his seat to face his father. "But you know what? That's the conversation we'd be having if Sammy hadn't called and warned me. And if he hadn't actually convinced Max to stay put while I tried to perform a head from up your ass-ectomy!"

"What?" John demanded again, his eyes haunted.

"I get that you're pissed about this Dad, for whatever hundreds of reasons. Hell, I was too. But it happened and now you need to actually deal with it instead of blaming them for things they couldn't control."

"I don't blame them," John announced softly, unable to meet Dean's scornful and unbelieving stare. "I blame myself," he whispered and tipped his beer back suddenly, guzzling it down. That took the wind out of Dean's indignant sails.

"You can blame yourself all you want to Dad," he told his father gently. "But it won't change what's already happened." John's shoulders hunched over a little more. "Come on Dad," he urged, "this isn't like you." That got no reaction. "You're the guy that gets things done, instead of moping about it. So go do your job."

"My job?" John asked sarcastically.

"Yeah, you know?" Dean's tone easily equaled his father's. "Being a father? That thing you signed on for when you made Max a part of our family? 'Cause honestly Dad, I can't do it. I can't be Max's brother and her friend and her father figure. I can't be the only link she has anymore. She needs you!"

It finally seemed to sink in and John wiped his hand over his face. He pushed the empty beer bottle away from himself and stood. He threw several bills on the bar to cover his tab and then turned to head for the exit. He paused when he realized that Dean wasn't following. "You coming?" he demanded gruffly.

"Nope," Dean shook his head. "The other thing Sam told me was that there was an article in his local paper that we needed to check out." John raised an eyebrow, since one of Sam's last parting blows to his father was that he was done with hunting. "He would have said more, but his roommate was there."

"Really?" John asked. Dean shrugged.

"He told me that even though he was done with it, he still figured that someone should know about it. So I guess I'll be busy researching, huh?"

John nodded and turned away. So his life had never been perfect. Sam's leaving had been a devastating blow and his rejection of everything that John held to be important had seared. So this... well, at least it was something.


	12. Damaging Days

Title: What If... Racing Towards Destiny

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Rating: PG-13- MA

Genre: Crossover

Type: Romance

Pairing: Max Guevara/ Sam Winchester

Summary: What if... Max had been having a different dream?

Spoilers/ Timeline: This starts when Max is thirteen and going into heat for the very first time.

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first please.

A/N: This story, while being in the same universe as _When It Changes_, does not actually occur within that storyline. This fiction is just an off-shoot of what **might **have happened.

**Chapter Twelve**

**Damaging Days**

"Come on Sam," Dean snarled as he listened to the endless ringing through his cell phone. "Damn it! Pick up, you prick!" As if on cue, the ringing stopped and the breathless voice of his younger brother answered.

"Hello?"

"Where the hell have you been?" Dean demanded angrily. He'd been calling Sam all day, both cell phone and home phone to no avail.

"Dean?" Sam seemed vaguely surprised. "I was in school all day and the professors don't allow the cells in class, so I left it at home."

"Just freakin' typical," Dean groaned.

"What's wrong?" Sam demanded again as he checked the cell phone on his desk, right where he'd left it. It registered fourteen missed call and several voice mails. "Is Max okay?"

"As a matter of fact, no," Dean sighed, calming a little, now that he could finally do something for his sister. "She's had a really crappy day, which in turn has made my day, equally hellacious."

"What happened?" Sam asked, still trying to settle his racing heart and recover his breath.

"Well let's see," Dean snarked. "I woke up this morning and her sheets were drenched with sweat and she was in the bathroom-!"

"Is she sick?" Sam asked with concern.

"I don't know," Dean admitted heavily. "She wouldn't let me get close enough to take her temperature. Anyway, she was in there for like an hour, in the shower."

"Uh huh?" Sam wasn't exactly seeing the trouble yet.

"So when I finally got my turn, I figured no hot water, right?" Dean continued. "But no, there was plenty. She sat in there freezing her ass off for God knows what reason. But when I came out, she looked like she was burning up again, fevered, kind of glassy-eyed."

"Well if she has a fever..." Sam began. "Oh, did she take her pills?"

"Oh yeah," Dean confirmed as he paced around the motel room. "I managed to get her to do that much."

"So if she has a fever, it broke and she was trying to keep her temperature down..." Sam surmised as he tried to think his way through a fever cycle.

"That's what I thought too," Dean informed him. "But she wouldn't eat or drink anything," he talked loudly over Sam, "and she was prowling around like she'd explode if she sat still for even one second."

Sam assimilated that into the information that Dean was imparting to him and sucked in a hasty breath, his concern spiking. "Dean! She's not... on something, is she?" he choked out. He didn't ever really think that Max would do drugs, but there was always a chance that maybe somehow she'd gotten a dose accidentally.

"No," Dean quickly cut Sam's thinking short. "I thought of that too. But we were hanging together all night, the whole night. She was perfectly fine last night."

"But if she took something this morning..." Sam insisted helplessly, cursing himself for not being there for her.

"That's the thing though," Dean sighed. "She wasn't acting high. The only time she'd ever space out was when I suggested calling you and then she'd get this goofy look on her face. But that's typical. She always looks like that when she hears your name."

"Really?" Sam asked softly, unable to keep the gentle smile from his face.

"Focus Sam!" Dean snapped with an impatient snort.

"Right! Sorry."

"Anyway, while she was prowling around, I checked. No paraphernalia or anything I could see."

"You checked her bags?" Sam's tone was concerned, tinged with a little indignation.

"Yes!" Dean huffed, "and don't worry. I didn't read your little love letters. But I sure as hell won't be going through her bags ever again. There's just some things you don't want to know about your sister."

"Dean?" Sam chuckled briefly. "Focus."

"Smart ass," he heard his brother grumble. "So anyway, I figured that if she _was_ on something, it'd burn through her system eventually, right?"

"Yeah."

"Uh uh," Dean scoffed. "She was like this all damn day!"

"So what-?" Sam began, but Dean cut him off.

"Well she was driving me nuts, the way she was climbing the walls. So I suggested that we go get something to eat."

"I thought you said she wasn't eating or drinking."

"No, I ate," Dean clarified. "She sat there sucking on ice cubes and growling at everybody that got near her."

"Dean," Sam protested the image he was creating, though it did make him smile.

"No, seriously dude! I really heard her growl. I was startin' to worry that she was possessed."

"But she wasn't?" Sam asked immediately.

"No."

"Okay... okay, what did you do then?"

"Actually," Dean sighed, rubbing at his forehead as he glanced towards the closed bathroom door. "Max suggested we hit the gym across the street from the diner.

"And what was wrong with that?" Sam asked, slightly puzzled.

"Nothing at first," Dean grunted. "We paid for a day pass and Max signed up for one of those women's jazz-sizey things."

"Huh?"

"You know," Dean muttered. "Those step things, up down, up down, kick punch run your ass up steps goin' nowhere."

"Oh, you mean step aerobics," Sam surmised finally.

"Typical that you'd know that Samantha," Dean snorted.

"Dean!"

"Yeah, it was a beautiful sight man, all that bouncin' and bobbing and sweaty-!"

"Dude! You are such a pervert! I can't believe you were checking out my girlfriend!"

"Ew! No!" Dean snapped. "I meant all the other... Jeeze. Who's the pervert here, thinkin' that? There's no way I'd be checkin' out my own sister!"

"So what?" Sam smiled at the trap he was laying for Dean. "Are you saying that my girlfriend isn't as beautiful as those other women?"

"Well of course she is," Dean grumbled, irritated. "She's downright gorgeous."

"Aha!" Sam crowed triumphantly. "So you obviously have checked her out." There was a moment of silence and then spoke very quietly.

"I'm going to hit you. Next time I see you. Hard. Very hard!"

"All right," Sam chuckled. "So you guys were at the gym?" he prompted.

"Yeah, and she seemed fine in her class," Dean picked up the thread of his story again. "She seemed more relaxed anyway, after."

"Well that's good."

"Yeah, until the creep started following her around."

"The creep?"

"Do you want to hear this or not?" Dean grunted. "Quit interrupting."

"Sorry."

"All right. I didn't notice the guy at first. Max came out into the main gym and was runnin' the treadmill for a while-!"

"After an aerobics class?" Sam asked, slightly in awe of Max's stamina.

"Yeah, she was barely winded," Dean joked. "Dude, she out-stepped the teacher. But anyway, I got on the treadmill too and we were fine. She finished before I did and headed over to the free weights. So then the creep comes up to me and starts making comments about my hot little girlfriend. And like a friggin' idiot, I tell the ass wipe that she's my sister!"

"Dean," Sam sighed heavily. "It's not your fault that the guy was a jerk."

"No," Dean agreed readily enough. "But if I'd let him think that Max was my girlfriend, he might have left her alone. Should have clocked the guy when I had the chance."

"Dean? You didn't...?" Sam groaned, warring with keeping his brother calm and irritation that Max had some guy panting after her.

"No. _I_ didn't."

"So...?"

"Well the creep started following her around. She kept trying to blow him off, move somewhere else, but he just kept it up," Dean's voice was quiet and serious now, yet Sam could hear a kind of questioning, as if he were asking Sam to understand the circumstances before he flew off the handle. And Sam's gut was telling him that that just might not happen. "I mean, man, I tried to watch out for her but..."

"No, it's okay Dean. I understand," Sam forced himself to assure his brother, before any green-eyed monster took actual hold on him. "You can't stand guard over her ever single second of the day. Besides, that pisses her off more than anything."

"Yeah well... anyways," Dean continued. "She'd finally had enough and wanted to leave. Which was fine by me."

"So what went wrong?" Sam demanded. He just knew this was all leading up to something big.

"Well, separate change rooms of course," Dean sighed, rubbing his thumb over his brow. Sam felt the apprehension gnawing at his innards. "Sam, the guy cornered her down the hallway to the ladies changing room."

"What did he do?" Sam's voice was so low and dark and dangerous that it made Dean shiver.

"Well, I didn't see it," he hedged, "since I was changing-!"

"Dean!"

He sighed. "From what I could understand, he followed her, made some remarks about what she was wearing, how she was acting and she told him to get lost. That's when he threw her up against a wall."

"God damn son of a bitch!"

"Yeah," Dean couldn't help but agree. "But you know Max. She doesn't put up with any crap of any kind."

"What'd she do?"

"Well," Dean drawled," it is my understanding..." he drew this part out with relish, "that it will be several _years_ before this jerk-off can even begin to contemplate having kids."

"Good!" Sam declared viciously. "Serves the bastard right!"

"Yeah," Dean nodded. He might have been sympathetic to the guy, if the situation hadn't been what it was. "Well, it didn't end there."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked hesitantly.

"I'm sorry, but the idiot must have snapped or something," Dean grunted. "He went after her verbally, called her... some names... and-!"

"What names?" Sam demanded, the anger simmering again. But his brother didn't answer. "Dean! What names?"

Dean sighed again, his head tilting back to stare up at the ceiling as he wondered how bad Sammy might bust up over this. The kid had a real aversion to this sort of thing. "Look, out of everything I could hear... cock tease would have been about the tamest." There was a dreadful silence on the other end of the phone. "So basically," Dean concluded, "I got out of the men's locker room just in time to see her snap-kick the guy down the hall. Broke the bastard's jaw." There was choked laugher at that, strained, but laughter all the same.

"Well, I guess that's a case of the punishment fitting the crime."

Dean smiled ruefully as he considered that and laughed as well. "Yeah, that is a certain poetic justice."

"So is Max okay now?" Sam asked softly. He felt worse now than before, that he wasn't there, protecting her from assholes like this. Even though this proved that she could certainly take care of herself. But hell, he was her boyfriend and she should never have to deal with anything like this.

"She's pretty shaken up," Dean informed him. "The gym owner called the cops," he related. "And an ambulance," he added as an afterthought.

"Max isn't in trouble, is she?" Sam wanted to know. "Because there is no way-!"

"Dude, chill, it's good," Dean interrupted, striving to calm his brother down. "Thing was, there were plenty of witnesses heard this guy harassing her and her telling him to get lost. And apparently, two old biddies came out of the ladies room and saw everything. They said they would've helped, but it happened so fast."

"So the jerk gets nailed instead," Sam asked with relief.

"Yeah, the clincher was the cops finding out that Max is just barely seventeen. That's pretty much an automatic jail term in these parts, especially since the creep started trying to sing like a canary when a bunch of women started lining up to make their own complaints. Of course, he couldn't say much, or anything at all really. You know, with the broken jaw..."

"So this guys a terminal troublemaker, huh?"

"Well at the very least, I'd say his gym privileges have been seriously revoked." They both sighed for the same reason, letting go of some of the tension that overrode the conversation. But Dean knew that it wasn't at an end yet. "There uh, there is something else Sam," he warned softly, glancing back at the still closed bathroom door. "Max is..."

"What?" Sam grunted, faintly alarmed.

Dean lowered his voice, pacing back and forth before the front door. "She's blaming herself Sam."

"What? No!" Sam protested, his gut twisting again.

"Yeah,' Dean confirmed softly. "The whole ride home, she just kept saying that she shouldn't have gone out, shouldn't have gone to the gym, that she shouldn't have been wearing the workout clothes that she had..."

"That's ridiculous."

"I know," Dean tried to reassure his brother. "We both know who's at fault, but Max is really upset about this. Dude, she didn't want you to find out."

"What!" Sam's voice rose half an octave in disbelief. "Why?"

And this was the part that Dean was really dreading telling his little brother. "Because Sam," he murmured, "she's afraid of how you'll take it. She's scared that... because it's been so long since you guys have... seen each other... Damn it, she's scared that you'll think she... encouraged this."

"No," Sam breathed out an instant denial and Dean felt the brief relief that he'd done the right thing, instead of keeping quiet like Max had wanted. "Let me talk to her," Sam directed.

"Okay, hang on a second," Dean muttered as he began to walk towards the bathroom. "She locked herself in the bathroom as soon as we got back here." Sam silently waited, listening as he heard the faint sounds of his older brother knocking on the door. "Max? Sam's on the phone. He wants to talk to you." There was a pause and Sam couldn't make out her reply, if there was any. "Come on Maxie. Open the door sweetie." God, she was really upset if Dean's tone of voice was anything to judge by. Finally Sam thought he could discern the sound of the door opening. It was confirmed by his brothers, "hey, here, take the phone. He's not gonna bite." Finally there was a crackle as if the phone were switching hands, but still, no one spoke to him. "Okay," Sam heard Dean again. "I'm gonna go pick up some dinner. Burgers okay? I'll be back in half an hour or so, maybe a little longer." There was some shuffling and then, "I'm taking your phone in case you need to get ahold of me. Okay?" Another door slammed and then Sam could hear her soft breath over the phone. Sam held his own breath, wondering if he'd have to make the first move, but then...

"Sam? He breathed out a sigh of relief, though he could hear the fear and hesitation in her voice that Dean had been warning him of.

"Hey sweetheart," he replied softly. "I hear you're having a rough day." Apparently it was the wrong thing to say as he heard a ragged sob and his heart constricted. It was useless to tell her not to cry, because sometimes a body just needed that sort of release. Sam decided that he just needed to go bold and hope he got through to her. "Max," he spoke quietly again, though just loud enough to be heard through her tears, "Dean told me what happened to you and-!"

"Oh God," she cried softly. "I'm sorry!"

"No baby," Sam responded immediately, his hand clenching into a fist, grinding into the arm of the sofa beside him. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"I shouldn't have gone out," she whispered.

"No. No," he repeated, trying to rein in his anger, not wanting to scare her. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"He called me a..." he heard her choke up again.

"Oh honey," Sam winced. "Whatever he called you, we both know it's not true."

"But-!"

"Sorry, no!" Sam quickly interjected. "Maxie, you could have been doing a striptease in the park and that _still_ wouldn't have given _anyone_ the right to put his hands on you!" He could feel that he'd shocked her by saying that and felt relief when he heard her weak chuckle, until it broke into another jagged cry.

"Oh God Sam! I miss you so much!"

"I miss you too honey," he groaned. "Look Max, if you need me to come out there, I'll leave now."

"But you said we shouldn't-!"

"That doesn't matter now," Sam interrupted "Do you want me to come to you?"

"Yes," the answer was immediate, but then she sighed. "No. We're supposed to meet up with Dad tomorrow."

"And that would deter me how?" Sam asked wryly. "Sweetheart, I would do anything for you. You know that, don't you?"

"Yeah, I know," Max sighed. "But it's okay. I'll get through this."

"I know you will," Sam assured her. "You are the strongest, most wonderful woman I know."

"I didn't feel so wonderful today," she mumbled grumpily.

"Yeah,' Sam caught the new topic, wondering how to broach the fears on his end. "Dean was pretty worried about you, even before the incident at the gym."

"Yeah,' Max agreed. "Seriously, he's been great to me today, for the most part."

"But?" Sam asked, sensing the story he needed to hear.

"Oh Sam, you don't want to hear this," she protested. "It's just... female stuff."

Sam smiled at the typical euphemism that was employed in their family to explain Max's occasional mood swings. "And since you're the female it's affecting, whom I happen to have a great deal of interest in, I think I can handle it sweetheart."

"Oh it's just," Max began, sounding somewhat frustrated. "Okay, I've been reading up on certain things and..." Sam waited. This was obviously very personal for Max and just as obviously difficult to share. "It's uh... I think my birth control pills are throwing me out of whack," she finally got out in a rush and Sam took a moment to try and decipher that.

"Oh," Sam was concerned of course, but also mildly relieved. Birth control, his and hers was something they had discussed before. Such as her decision to remain on it for reasons not related to the prevention of pregnancy. "How so?" Sam asked, intrigued yet at the same time very aware that he might get an answer that most men wanted to avoid.

"Well," she sighed, explaining slowly now, "it feels like there's this... almost like an overload of hormones building up, in my system, you know? Or maybe, my body just doesn't know how to handle the extra."

"Okay," Sam chewed at his lower lip. This wasn't something that had ever occurred to him as a possible side effect.

"This isn't a new problem," Max continued hesitantly. "I've noticed it before. Just um, never to this extent before."

"So what can we do about it?" Sam asked, surprised when he heard another wry chuckle out of her.

"Well _we_," she drawled and he realized what had made her laugh, "can switch to the mini-pill, as its progestin only, or try a different method altogether."

"Well what would be best for you?" Sam asked and Max softened. He always seemed to know just the right thing to say to her.

"I'm thinking I'll give the mini-pill a try and if that doesn't work, then maybe the depo-provera shot," Max explained.

"Okay," Sam nodded, thinking that it would be wise to do a little reading up on the subject. "You'll keep me posted?"

"If you want me to," she giggled, thoroughly amused by his commitment to see her through even this.

"Of course I do," Sam noted, half sternly. "I care about everything about you."

"I know you do," Max was quiet and serious again. "That's what makes this bearable." Sam was quite sure that she didn't mean just her medical dilemma. Sam waited for anything else forthcoming and then heard her chuckle again. "So I was wondering about something," she began.

"Uh huh?" Sam smiled, finally able to relax since he'd first raced through the door to answer the ringing phone.

"A striptease in the park?" she repeated back to him with a low, throaty laugh and Sam felt himself flush. "Is this something you've thought about before?"

"Oh, well, uh," he mumbled," um... yeah, a few times," he finally admitted, but was quick to add, "just you and me though. It wasn't like-!"

"It's okay Sam," she assured him quickly. "I think about you too, you know."

"Really?" Sam asked, daring to wonder if she'd had fantasies as rich in detail as he'd achieved.

"Would you like to hear what I think about?" her voice went from low to sensual in a heartbeat and Sam felt his cock stir with the blood rushing through his body. Yes he was most _definitely_ interested.

"Yes," he managed to get out, his voice thick with sudden anticipation.

"Are you somewhere comfortable?" she asked softly.

"Yeah, no, wait," Sam mumbled, standing up. The realization of where this conversation was veering had him off balance. They'd danced around phone sex before, hinting at things, but never having the chance because of various interruptions. Sam didn't know also, if this was a reaction to her ordeal at the gym or because her hormones were now working overtime, or even a combination of the two. But if she needed this, he was more than willing to give it to her. He headed for his bedroom. It didn't matter that he now had his own apartment. He wanted to be in a place that reminded him of his most vivid memories of her were. The most intimate. And since there wasn't a motel and the backseat of the Impala wasn't available, his bed it would have to be.

"Sam?" Max asked, slightly breathless.

"Yeah baby?"

"Where'd you go?"

"To the bedroom," he answered honestly, not sure he could explain the reason if she asked, but she didn't.

"Are you naked?" she came out, asking him point blank.

"I'm getting that way," Sam gasped, pulling the phone away from his ear as he tanked his t-shirt up over his head and toeing off his sneakers. "Are you?"

"Do you want me to be?"

"Oh hell yes!"

"Ah. I'll take off my towel then," she chuckled. "Sit down on the bed when you're ready," she instructed him. It took him a few minutes to get rid of the rest of his clothes, but as soon as he could, he was sitting, his mouth dry and his heart racing

"So you're sitting down?" Max asked after a moment.

"Uh huh," Sam murmured, slightly self-conscious, even though he was alone in the apartment.

"All the way on the bed, or at the edge?" she asked softly.

"Does it matter?" he hesitated.

"Mm hmm."

"Oh, at the edge," he answered truthfully.

"And I'm kneeling on the floor in front of you," Max told him huskily. "Pushing your legs apart so that there's room for me. Because I want you. Would you like that Sam?"

"Yeah," he answered softly, his breathing shallow, leaning back as he listened and enjoyed the extremely explicit description of what exactly she wanted to do to him.

Dean breathed a sigh of relief as he shut the motel door behind himself. God, it was really heartbreaking to see Max looking so tiny and vulnerable. He hoped like hell that Sammy could straighten her out, because if this didn't work, he was out of ideas. He got in his beloved Impala and checked his watch. Getting dinner wouldn't take too long and Sam would probably need a while to settle Max down, if he could. And there was also the fact that he didn't want to walk back in to hear any of that mushy baby talk... And that was as far as his mind would allow him to register. Not that Sam or Max were the types to talk babyish, unless of course, Max was mocking someone, Dean thought as he started the car.

He grinned for a moment as he tried to imagine his string bean brother talking in a high squeaky voice. That would be awesome blackmail. As he drove aimlessly, trying to decide what he was hungry for and what might entice Max to eat, he realized that he'd just driven past the gym. The anger that had been simmering on the back burner in his mind tried to boil over again, but Dean resolutely pushed it back. He did however indulge in a quick fantasy about tracking down that bastard and enjoying a good old-fashioned ass kicking at the creeps expense. Or maybe an ass full of rock salt. That'd be good too. Teach the prick to fear the name Winchester just that little bit more. Too bad he was safely in police custody. It scared Dean, honestly scared him, to know that if the guy got himself a competent lawyer, he might be able to get off on some sort of technicality. Yet another reason why Dean had no confidence in the entire legal system. Of course, he reminded himself, there was enough crap on this guy that something was bound to stick.

Finally deciding that he'd rather get a cup of coffee than burn more fuel, he pulled into a little cafe. After the waitress had brought him his coffee and a donut and had flirted a little before realizing that Dean's heart wasn't truly in it, he heard Max's cell phone ring. He dug it out of his jacket pocket.

"Hello?" he answered with a small grin, knowing that it was his father.

"Dean?"

"Yeah Dad, what's up?"

"What are you doing with Max's phone?" John demanded.

"She was upset, so I called Sam and he's talking her down," Dean replied, forthright and honest. "So I took her phone while I'm out getting us dinner."

"Oh. What's she upset about?"

"Some creep made the colossal mistake of putting his hands on her after being repeatedly told no," Dean relayed. He knew he was downplaying this portion of events quite a bit, but he was hoping that Max would be back to normal soon.

"And would I be correct in assuming she taught him a lesson he won't soon forget?" John drawled laconically.

"Some old-fashioned birth control and a broken jaw, so... yeah," Dean chuckled.

"Any other trouble?" was John's subtle way of asking if there would be any forms of retribution.

"Nope," Dean told him cheerfully. "Cops made it very clear to the asshole that grabbing seventeen year old girls isn't looked too kindly upon. And all of the witnesses vehemently agreed."

John chuckled and then sighed. "Well, are you still gonna be able to head out tomorrow?"

"Should be able to," Dean confirmed. "Last I heard, the creep wrote out a confession, so they won't need Max to testify or anything."

"Good, call me when you're closer," John directed and then disconnected. Dean shook his head and put Max's phone down on the table. The next time the waitress came by with the coffeepot, he asked for a menu. She obliged and while waiting, he dialed his own phone. It was flipped right over to voice mail, indicating that Max was probably still talking. He settled on some items from the menu, figuring that if Max wasn't hungry, he could polish it off himself, or save it for later. He put in his order to go and the waitress asked if he wanted dessert with that. Even though she knew that Dean had just polished off a huge donut. He mulled it over a moment and decided to get a couple slices of pie. There was no cherry for Max, but hopefully, she wouldn't hold that against him. He tried calling Max again, with the same results. But just in case she'd talked the phone dead, he tried Sam's number as well. It was still busy. Eventually, the food was ready and smelled delicious as Dean paid for it and headed back to the car. He snacked on some of the fries on the drive back to the motel. He really, really hoped that things were a lot better, than when he'd left.

"It's been a _really long time_," Sam stressed and then chuckled again. "See? This is why I try to keep my fantasies confined to the shower."

"Ah, the shower," she murmured huskily. Sam's lips twitched and the corners of his mouth curved into a grin as he glanced down at his semi-hard member.

"You'll have to give me a few minutes sweetheart." He heard her sigh.

"As much as I would love to, Dean will probably be back soon.

"Yeah, you're right," Sam agreed, amazed and very thankful that Dean was giving them this much time. He didn't want to contemplate his own embarrassment, much less hers if Dean had walked in on... _that_. Frowning, he carefully cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder and reached for some tissues from his nightstand.

"But are you feeling better now?" he asked sympathetically.

"Yes and no," she answered quietly.

"Oh?"

"Well, physically, yes, a little bit better. But I just miss you so much more now,"

"I know Maxie," Sam sighed. "It's the same for me."

"You know," she muttered. "If we can't be together just yet, then I think we need to do _this_ more often."

"Yes, if only Dean and Dad would magically disappear whenever we happened to be horny," Sam teased.

"Ooh!" Max crowed. "Magic word- cramps! They always make themselves scarce whenever that subject gets mentioned."

"There you go," Sam laughed. "We'll get this figured out yet."

"I better get dressed," Max blurted out.

"Is Dean back?"

"Yep, he just pulled in."

"Okay," Sam smiled as he heard the hurried sounds of her gathering clothes and then a knock at the door. "Was that on your end?"

"Yeah, just a second," she told him. "Oh Sam, I better hang up soon. The battery is pretty low."

"That's okay sweetie." He heard Dean's voice then, but couldn't make out the words. "Hey Maxie, let me talk to Dean for just a second."

"Okay," she agreed. I love you."

'I love you too Max." And then his older brother was greeting him.

"Hey Sammy!" He let that slide. "You know, whatever the hell you said to her? Keep it up!" Sam blinked once and then began to laugh. Oh, if only he could. "What?" Dean demanded, grinning at the sound of his brother's joyful mirth.

"No, nothing," Sam muttered. Yet another thing he wasn't going to share with his big brother. "Actually Dean," he switched topics. "I just wanted to ask you to keep an eye on her for the next few days."

"Oh? There a problem?"

"Shouldn't be, really," Sam grunted. "But just in case."

"What's going on?"

Sam bit his lip, wondering how much information to impart to his brother, since it wasn't really his place. "Look, just... if she starts getting weepy... or crawling up the walls.. or whatever. Call me!"

"Dude! What the hell? You think this is gonna happen again?"

"It might," Sam winced and there was a moment of silence and then Dean groaned.

"Oh you gotta be shittin' me! This whole this was what... PMS?"

"Dean," Sam warned.

"All right, all right," Dean grunted and then laughed. "Well now I'm glad I got her the large chocolate shake.

"Yeah, she'll like that," Sam agreed. "But anyway, thanks Dean." There was no way that he could express everything he was thankful to his older brother for, but he was pretty sure that Dean would understand.

"Hey, what are big brothers for," Dean teased back. "Hey, battery is gettin' low."

"That's what Max said," Sam noted. "I'll let you go then. Bye."

They hung up and Dean moved to find his plug in charger for his cell phone. He plugged it in to replenish the battery just as Max emerged from the bathroom, dressed in her pajamas. "Hey Maxie, you up for some dinner?"

"Yeah," she smiled shyly. "Suddenly I'm ravenous." She followed the scent of the burgers emanating from the paper bag containing them that Dean had set down. Dean followed and swung a chair around at the table, straddled it and shoved her milkshake towards her. He pulled open the top of the bag and began doling out what he'd purchased.

"So?" he began conversationally. "Feeling better now?" He blinked in surprise when Max choked suddenly, the straw falling from her lips. Her eyes widened and she began to laugh uproariously. Dean grinned at her infectious mirth, even though once again, he didn't quite get the joke.


	13. And Have You Been Naughty Or Nice?

Title: What If... Racing Towards Destiny

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Rating: PG-13- MA

Genre: Crossover

Type: Romance

Pairing: Max Guevara/ Sam Winchester

Summary: What if... Max had been having a different dream?

Spoilers/ Timeline: This starts when Max is thirteen and going into heat for the very first time.

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first please.

A/N: This story, while being in the same universe as _When It Changes_, does not actually occur within that storyline. This fiction is just an off-shoot of what **might **have happened.

**Chapter Thirteen**

**And Have You Been Naughty Or Nice?**

"So have you figured out what you're getting Sammy for Christmas yet?" John asked, bemused as he watched Max flipping through some men's shirts.

"No," Max sighed as she reached the last shirt on the rack and gave it a disgusted toss against the rest of the shirts hanging there.

"Oh come on," Dean snorted. "You've got almost a month, do we really have to do this right now?" John frowned and shook his head, but Max had already rounded on her brother.

"Yes! I have to do this now! In case you've forgotten, we're clear across the country and it does take some time to ship things!"

"All right, all right, I'm sorry," Dean held his hands up in defeat. "I'm just sayin', you've looked in just about every store here and you still haven't come up with anything. Why don't you give yourself a break? Think about it some more and then come back tomorrow?"

Max pursed her lips and slowly uncrossed her arms. Dean was right. She'd dragged them through almost every inch of the mall with not one drop of inspiration hitting her. It was time to pack it in, for the day at least. She gave in and nodded, following them out to the car.

Feeling just a little dejected, she barely paid attention to the conversation swirling over her head. As she was climbing into the back seat of the Impala, she heard a shriek and snapped her head around, looking for the source. But it was only a woman, being hefted off her feet and swung around by her exuberant male companion. She smiled softly, looking forward to the time when it would be she and Sam like that. Young and in love, carefree, but most of all, together. It wouldn't be long now, but knowing that made the days go by even slower it seemed. The couple moved out of her eyeliner and Max found herself looking at the store that was kitty corner to the mall.

Not just a store, it was a photography studio. She grinned suddenly. Why hadn't she thought of that before? Sam was always saying that he wished he had a nice photo of her. And she'd always meant to send him one. But somehow she'd never had the time or a camera handy. She looked carefully, zooming in her eyesight to see clearly what the studio hours were and then noticed another sign that announced that the photographer offered private session for erotic images. Her lips curved up at the corners. Did she dare? Could she work up the nerve? And then she realized that Dean was speaking to her.

"What?" she asked distractedly.

"I said," he announced exaggeratedly, a grin hovering on his lips, "that I'm sure you'll find something great that Sammy'll love, tomorrow."

"Yeah," she murmured her agreement, "I probably will."

Her enthusiasm was starting to waver and give way to nervousness the closer she came to the photography studio. She'd called first thing in the morning and was able, thanks to someone else's cancellation, to arrange a session for that afternoon. She was told to bring her identification, since minors weren't allowed, any clothing she might want to pose in and any props she might want to use, even though there were some choices in the studio itself. Only having a vague idea about clothing and props, Max had packed her new bathing suit, since Sam had been intrigued when she had described it to him. But she wasn't sure if that was what she wanted for a picture. Thinking that maybe she'd get some inspiration at the mall, she'd left early to do a little shopping for herself. She told John and Dean that they'd suffered enough shopping with her and that she'd go alone this time. It didn't escape her, the looks of utter relief on their faces.

Wandering through the mall, she'd stopped in a women's boutique, but everything she saw just wasn't her style. Luckily, a sympathetic saleslady was helpful and when Max revealed that she needed something to pose in, she asked where Max was having the photos done. Max told her and the woman smiled knowingly. It turned out that she'd done the same thing for her husband a few years ago. She had directed Max to the back of the store, to some sexy yet tasteful negligees. With the woman's help, Max picked out a long midnight blue gown trimmed with black lace.

But now, new bag in hand, Max wondered if this was something she could really do. Unfortunately, she just didn't have any other ideas. Steeling herself, she pulled open the door and walked into the studio. She was greeted as she approached the counter, by a middled-aged woman with shortly cropped gray hair.

"Hi," Max smiled. "I've got a one o'clock appointment."

"You're Max Winchester?" the woman confirmed and Max nodded. The woman offered her hand.

"I'm Erin Griffith, I'll be manning the camera."

"Okay," Max smiled. The woman seemed fairly easy going and comfortable with what she did.

"I hope you don't mind," Erin continued, "but my shop girl isn't back from lunch yet."

"Oh that's no problem," Max sighed.

"If you like, you can look through my portfolio book for ideas, unless of course, you have something specific in mind."

"Well," Max spoke as she followed Erin to a leather sofa on the far side of the room, with a coffee table before it. "A saleslady said that she'd posed a few years ago... um, on a bed, in a... gown?"

Erin smiled as she gestured for Max to sit. "That pose is definitely a standard one," she explained. "It's usually what women go for, their first time doing this."

Max nodded slowly. "Do a lot of women... come back?"

"Oh yes," Erin laughed, her head tilting back with her mirth. "Some people get a certain thrill and sense of excitement doing it. I even on occasion, get their boyfriends or husbands."

Max felt absurdly relieved when she heard that. "That's why I'm doing this," she explained. "My boyfriend is in college. I'm moving out there next month, but I uh..."

"Wanted to give him something to look forward too?" Erin asked archly. Max nodded shyly. "Well then, let's get started. We can always do the bed shot, but it's always fun to add a personal touch. Is there anything that you and your boyfriend are crazy about?"

Max thought about it for a moment and then said with an impish grin, "riding my motorcycle."

"Oh? Like a Harley?" Erin asked, seeming surprised.

"No, it's a Ninja," Max corrected her and Erin laughed.

"I'm sorry, I know next to nothing about them. A Harley is what I think of when I hear 'motorcycle'."

"Oh well, unlike the Harley, my baby is low and sleek," Max enthused. "Riding her is like my soul riding the wind."

"You didn't happen to bring it with you, did you?"

"Of course I did," Max grinned.

"I'll tell you what," Erin mused thoughtfully, tapping one finger against her pursed lips. "As soon as Kathy gets back from lunch, we'll go out and look at your bike. I think we may have found out first shot."

The three hour session had seemed to fly by once Max had loosened up. Erin had helped, constantly cracking jokes and witty remarks. And Max had loved cuddling with the kittens that Kathy had retrieved from the pet store in the mall. It turned out that Erin did the store's calendars at cost and in return, was allowed occasionally to use the animals as props. And it just got better from there.

On a whim, Max headed back to the mall. She'd seen a great frame that would be useful if Sam wanted to put one of the pictures in it. And there had been a shirt that really would look great on him. And the more she'd thought on it, there were a few other things she could pick up that he would enjoy.

She breezed back into the motel, laden with several bags, that she'd barely managed to secure to her bike. Dean let out a low whistle as he took in the results of her shopping spree. He picked up the frame that had slipped out of its bag. "Uh, I assume there's supposed to be more to this?" he teased. Max grinned.

"There will be once I get my portraits back," she assured him.

"You had your portrait done?" John clarified and Max nodded again.

"It was so cute. Erin, the photographer, she had all these kittens. They were so sweet and adorable."

"Now don't be gettin' any ideas about pets," Dean teased and Max stuck her tongue out at him.

"But anyways, I got what I wanted to get," Max sighed happily. "Erin said that the pictures will be ready next week, so I'll have to come back and pick them up."

"That'll be fine," John allowed, even as Dean perked up.

"Pictures?" he noted, stressing the plural form. "As in more than one?"

Max, her back to them, frowned and squeezed her eyes shut as she realized her mistake and forced herself to casually explain. "Erin and Kathy, her assistant, loved my Ninja. Actually, Kathy was complaining about how here husband was really into Harley's and she wasn't allowed anywhere near his collection. Anyway, she asked if she could get a shot of her sitting on my bike so that he could have that, instead of all his um... calendars." Both men grinned wryly at that. "And then Erin said that if Kathy had a picture of my Ninja, then I should have one too, so we took it into the studio and fooled around with it for a while and got a pretty nice shot, so in all, it turned out pretty well." Both men blinked at her rapid explanation and sunny smile, but mentally shrugged with relief. As long as they weren't getting dragged around for more foot pounding through the malls, they didn't care. Also relieved, Max set about removing the wrapping paper she'd bought and turned to wrapping the gifts currently in her possession, save for the frame. That she would wait on.

Sam didn't hear his phone ringing. It was only when someone close to the kitchen yelled at him that the noise was brought to his attention. "Hey! Quiet down guys!" he yelped as he moved through the prone bodies scattered about his living room as he rushed to answer. His cordless was lost and the battery probably had gone dead, which explained not hearing the phone ringing.

"Sam, I can't find that book," a blond called out as he passed by her at the book case. He couldn't remember her name.

"Try the bottom shelf," he instructed as he turned into the kitchen and grabbed the receiver off the wall. "Hello?" he asked, just slightly out of breath.

"Hey handsome," a teasing voice greeted and he brightened.

"Hey Max, hang on a second." He pulled at the long dangling telephone cord that always seemed to get snarled up and moved further into the kitchen, away from the noise. "What's up sweetie?" he asked, relaxing against the counter.

"Oh, I just wanted to call and tell you that I-!"

"Oh wait," Sam interrupted as the blond poked her head into the kitchen, holding up a book.

"Was this the one?" she asked and Sam shook his head in the negative.

"No, but we might need it."

"Okay, sorry," she grinned, looking as if she weren't sorry at all for interrupting and then retreated. Sam returned the receiver to his mouth.

"Sorry about that," he muttered.

"It's okay," Max said. "Sounds busy over there."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "It was supposed to be a study group for finals, but Dale brought take-out."

"Ah, fun,' Max teased. "Turning into a party, huh?"

"It wouldn't be so bad if I knew who half these people were," Sam complained quietly. "But you were saying?"

"I was just letting you know that I mailed your Christmas gifts. You can expect them early next week," she informed him.

"Thank you," Sam smiled and then huffed out, "that reminds me, I meant to call and ask you. Did you want me to send yours to the post office box, or were you guy's going out to Bobby's?"

"We decided-!"

"Yo! Sam the man!" Chuck yelled from the living room. "Get your big brain out here. We need you!" Sam moved to the doorway and held up one finger.

"Sorry Maxie, what was that?"

"No big dealio," she chuckled. "I said we're going to Bobby's. Dad decided yesterday."

"Okay, I'll send your stuff there."

"All right," Max agreed, but whatever else she said was lost as a small crash sounded and a collective groan issued from the other room at his end. Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath and slowly counted to ten while Max laughed.

"Your study group sounds like a real wild bunch," she mused.

"Oh my God," Sam sighed. "You don't know how much I miss you right now."

"As much as I miss you?" she asked softly. "But I suppose I better let you go. It sounds like the circus animals need their ringmaster."

"And that's exactly how it feels," Sam grinned.

"I love you," Max whispered longingly.

"I-!" Sam was about to echo the sentiment, but was startled as that increasingly annoying blond woman limped into the kitchen. "Me too," he told Max hastily. "Bye." He hung up the phone, concerned when he saw blood dripping from the girl's foot. "What happened?" he demanded, a little harsher than he had intended. The girl had been flirting with him and dogging him all night, right from the moment she had shown up, uninvited on his doorstep. "Here, sit down," he directed, pulling out a chair from the table.

The girl sank down into it, her lips forming that barest grimace. It looked more like a pout. "Mm, someone broke a glass on the floor and I stepped in it," she winced.

"Okay, let me get my first aid kit," Sam muttered as he turned around and headed to the cupboard where he kept it, grimacing to himself. Hadn't she been wearing shoes a few minutes ago?

"Here, I got it Sam," another voice announced and Sam turned to see that Jess had suddenly appeared in the kitchen. "Chuck needs your help," she told him. Sam fought back a smile as he handed her the kit. Trust Jessica Moore to run interference for him. She was a very good friend.

"Thanks Jess," he nodded at her, truly meaning it. She gave him a knowing smile and he went back to the living room. Allison had picked up the larger pieces of glass and was carrying them to the kitchen to dispose of.

"You'll have to sweep," she informed him as she passed him. "Got a broom?"

"Yeah, it's in the closet," he said, switching directions, but she waved him away.

"I'll get it."

Sam nodded and resumed his seat. Dale and Chuck, his two closest male friends shared a look.

"Hm, Sam's looking a little flushed," Dale announced.

"Sam's lookin' frustrated," Chuck corrected. "Must have been a call from his..."

"Mystery girl!" they chorused together.

"All right," Sam sighed. "Can we please get back to studying?"

"I don't know man," Dale grinned, "how you've managed to maintain a long distance relationship as long as you have, and not go insane."

"Who says I'm sane," Sam laughed. There were some nights when he thought he would go crazy, he longed for her so badly. Everyone who knew the situation laughed along with him.

"No, seriously man," Dale cajoled.

Sam shrugged. "Max is just worth it."

"And it won't be that much longer, will it?" Allison asked as she returned, having obviously heard the conversation while she was in the kitchen.

"No it won't," Sam smiled and confirmed, "just after New Year,"

"And then we'll never see him," Dale moaned. "He'll be too busy makin' up for all those years of-!"

"Leave him alone, you guys!" Jess called from the kitchen doorway. "Hey, Ronnie's not feeling so well," she continued, gesturing to the other blond woman behind her. "Can someone give her a ride home?" Immediately Mike, or Mark, Sam wasn't sure which, raised his hand. It seemed fitting, since he'd been the one to bring Ronnie. The guy followed after Sam as he was retrieving their coats from the bedroom and once inside, hastily apologized about her.

"Sorry man, she was there when Dale asked if I wanted to study and she just... glommed onto me," he explained. "Seein' how she acted tonight, I see now why she wanted to come so badly."

"Don't worry about it man," Sam shrugged. "You're not responsible for her behavior."

"Thanks man," the guy sighed with relief, but his face tensed again. "Uh, I hate to ask, but... would you mind if I came back after? I could really use the help." Sam was already nodding his head. After all, he wasn't the one disrupting the group.

"Sure," he agreed. "No problem. Maybe by the time you get back, I'll have the inmates settled down in there."

"Yeah, good luck with that."

It wasn't all that difficult. Sam endured some more good-natured ribbing about Ronnie's obvious infatuation with him. He announced that the guy, Mark as it turned out, was coming back and they decided to wait for him so that he wouldn't miss anything. It only took Mark twenty minutes and once he was back, the group seriously got down to business.

Max glanced at the clock again for the umpteenth time. Sam was supposed to call her after he got out of his last final exam, which should have been done half an hour ago. She took a deep breath. Maybe the exam ran late, she told herself again. Or maybe he and his classmates were going over the test, discussing what they though they got or missed. There could be any number of reasons of non-negative things that was keeping him from calling. She fretted and worried through another fifteen minutes of silence before she finally gave in and reached for her cell phone. He picked up after the second ring.

"Hey Maxie? What's up?" Sam greeted cheerfully enough.

"Hey," Max let out a breath of relief that was soon followed by annoyance. "Did you forget you were going to call me? Let me know how exams went?" Max was just a little peeved. This last week, he'd been so busy and distracted that she'd backed off on calling him constantly. Since his schedule was so different because of the exams, she had no clue when he was free, so she had suggested that he call her. He'd done so, once. And they'd only talked for a few minutes. But he had promised that he'd call today.

"Oh sorry," Sam apologized contritely. "I didn't forget exactly. I just got caught up doing something."

Max's eyes narrowed at the evasion, but before she could ask, she heard a feminine voice addressing him that quickly became muffled as Sam obviously put one hand over the receiver.

"Hey, sorry about that," Sam mumbled after a moment.

"Who was that?"Max asked as casually as she could, even though her guts were twisting with suspicion.

"Oh... that's just my professor," Sam explained quickly. "We're just going over the courses I'm taking next semester."

"Oh, okay," Max spoke softly.

"Look," Sam chewed at his lower lip and then said quickly, "I really need to finish up here. How about I call you back tonight? I promise."

"O-okay," Max whispered. "I love you."

"Me too. Bye." He disconnected, snapped his cell phone shut and replaced it in his pocket as he turned to the woman next to him. "Sorry Donna," he smiled tersely. "That was my girlfriend."

"It's no problem," she shrugged. "Shall we get back to business?" she asked as she led him to the bedroom.

"Everything okay?" John asked Max from the doorway, startling her. She glanced up at him and then back down at her cell phone.

"Yeah," she lied, her voice husky. "He was busy. He's gonna call tonight."

"Okay," John straightened up. "Feel like playing some cards with the old geezers?"

Max swallowed heavily. "Sure," she agreed as she stood up. Anything to distract her from the fact that Sam had just lied to her. She knew perfectly well that all his professors this term, were men.

Eleven o'clock and he still hadn't called. Max laid on the bed that she always used while they stayed at Bobby's house. She was alternating between dejection and anger. She'd been quiet all evening and knew the guys were getting concerned. She'd finally said goodnight to them an hour ago and had escaped to the bedroom. But she had laid here that whole time, trying to figure out why Sm had lied to her. She thought about asking Dean for advice. But without any hard evidence supporting her fears, she didn't want Dean to worry either. But even had she asked, she knew what Dean would tell her. Call Sam and ask him, point blank. Deal with it instead of working herself into a snit.

She just wasn't sure that she could handle it if he were to tell her... Bracing her nerves, telling herself again that it probably wasn't what she thought, she reached for her cell phone. As before, he picked up almost immediately.

"Hey sweetheart!" he greeted her enthusiastically. "I was just looking for some place quiet to call you."

"You're not at home?" she asked carefully, because she could hear a lot of background noise.

"No," Sam smiled as he moved through the crowd. "The gang wanted to blow off some post-finals steam and they dragged me along with them."

"Oh," Max muttered. "Sounds fun."

"Not really," Sam chuckled as he finally found a quiet corner. "I'd much rather be at home, thinking of you, in my bed."

"Uh huh," she murmured breathily after a moment.

"God," he groaned. "I am so hard, thinking about you right now baby."

"Sam?" she asked in a small voice.

"Yeah sweetheart?" he murmured throatily.

"Are you drunk?"

He laughed at the bemusement in her voice. "Maybe just a little," he admitted. "Why do you ask?"

"Because you're in public," she giggled, "and talking to me like that. What else am I supposed to think?"

"That I miss you desperately," he retorted instantly. "And that the moment I get my hands on you, you're not leaving my bed for a week."

"You know what I think," Max uttered lowly and Sam felt his pulse quicken and his body begin to throb.

"What baby?"

"I think... you should really find someone sober to drive you home."

Sam blinked and then grinned ruefully. "All right," he conceded. "I'll just have to spend another lonely night without you."

"I know, I'm sorry," she sympathized. "But... if you need any inspiration when you get there... you should know that I just bought a new nightgown." Sam held his breath. "It's long and slinky."

"Blue?" he whispered hopefully.

"Of course," she murmured. "With black lace and a slit that runs clear up to my thigh."

"Oh God," he groaned again, his head thunking softly back against the wall behind him. "You're killing me here Maxie. Did you really?"

"You'll just have to wait and see," she told him impishly. "For now, get home safe, okay?"

"Okay," he agreed. "I love you."

"Love you too sweetie. Bye."

Sam whispered his own goodbye and waited until he heard her disconnect before he pulled the phone away from his ear.

"So it's another night with Rosy Palmer and her five slick sisters, huh?" Sam turned to see Dale standing a few feet away, grinning wickedly.

"Shut up," he groaned, pushing away from the wall, just slightly unsteady on his feet. Dale clapped him on the back and steered him back out into the crowd again. "Alli's ready to go. We can drop you off if you want." Sam nodded, suddenly tired. "I just don't know how you do it man," Dale mused again. At that point, Sam had no clue either.

The clock ticked steadily onward. Max was trying to graciously allow Sam some sleep. At least she hoped he was sleeping. It was after eight in the morning his time and he hadn't called her yet. Everyone at Bobby's had been up for a while. They'd opened gifts and eaten breakfast. And now Max was hiding away in the bedroom, debating another phone call.

In between movies the night before, she'd tried calling him at home, but there'd been no answer. She'd wondered about it, but firmly told herself that he was just at a party. It was the season for them after all. Fidgeting nervously, she reached up to play with the pendant around her neck. Chewing the corner of her lip, she finally decided. It was Christmas, she was allowed to be excited and to call her boyfriend. She dialed his number, but it took several rings before he picked up.

Sam mumbled a groggy, "'llo?"

"Merry Christmas, sleepyhead," Max greeted him softly. "Did I wake you up?"

"Max? What time is it?"

"After eight, your time," she informed him.

"Oh yeah," he yawned. "Sorry. I was at a party last night. I didn't get home until three."

"Oh sorry," Max frowned. "I can call back later."

"No, no," Sam hastily assured her and she could hear him moving around. "Just let me get some coffee. And maybe some aspirin," he mumbled as an afterthought.

"Are you okay?" Max asked, concerned.

"I'm fine," Sam muttered. "Just have a headache from lack of sleep and the amount of second hand smoke last night."

"Ah," she murmured. "Well I also wanted to thank you for everything you got me. Especially the necklace." She fingered the silver and diamond heart that was nestled in the valley between her breasts. "Its perfect."

"Oh, so you do like it," Sam sounded relieved. "I'm glad."

"I love it," Max grinned. "It's beautiful. And it actually goes great with the clothes that Dad bought me."

"Dad bought you clothes?" Sam repeated doubtfully and Max laughed.

"Well, the plan was that he would, but he was a little lost. So I showed him all the stuff I liked and he picked out what he liked for me out of those things."

"Okay," Sam grinned. "That sounds more like Dad."

"So I take it, that since I woke you up, you haven't gotten into your gifts yet?"

Sam could hear the enthusiasm in her voice. He poured himself a cup of coffee that had brewed automatically this morning and smiled at her impatience.

"I was just on my way to do that. So, anything I should open first?" he asked teasingly. He carried his coffee into the living room and set it on the coffee table, next to the pile of presents waiting to be opened.

"It's up to you," Max chuckled. "Just have at it."

Sam grinned as he reached for the smallest gift first. It was a cd and Sam was shocked to see that it was the very same cd that he had considered for Max, but decided to wait, since he wasn't sure if she'd like it. He told her that and they laughed over it, great minds and all. He laughed over the t-shirts she'd picked out, all with funny, witty sayings on them. The book was one he'd been meaning to get and read. He found out that she'd already read it and loved it. He was sure he would as well. Finally he was down to the last gift. He pulled it closer, but opted quickly for another sip of coffee, wishing the aspirin he'd taken would kick in.

The box he held was rectangular and not too big. Sam unwrapped it where it lay, the phone cradled between his head and his shoulder. When he got it open, the picture on the box made him smile. "A frame? Max, did you...?"

"Finally send you a picture?" she finished for him. "Yeah. What do you think?" Working on extracting the frame from the box, Sam missed how her voice had softened, the trepidation in it. He finally worked the frame free and pulled the bubble wrap that protected it free. In his hands was a studio portrait of Max, on her motorcycle, her hair draped over one shoulder as she leaned forward, smiling into the camera.

"Oh Max," he sighed. "This is nice."

"So you like them?" This time he heard the relief in her voice.

"Yeah, they're all great." He paused and tilted the frame, admiring the work. "I see you let the red dye grow out. Or did you dye it back?" he mused.

"Oh," she sounded a little startled. "Yeah. I let it grow out a while ago." Sam was about to ask how she'd convinced the photographer to let her bring the bike into the studio, when he head a knock at his door. He set the frame down and stood.

"Hang on a sec Max," he told her. "There's someone at the door."

"Oh? Where you expecting anyone?"

"Honestly, no," Sam muttered as he ambled to the door.

"Okay," Max sighed. "Why don't you call me back later? Love you."

"Love you too Max," Sam whispered as he pulled the door open.

"Hey sweetie!" an overly cheerful voice greeted.

"Hey," Sam smiled.

Max stared at the phone that had just been disconnected, pain etched in every inch of her face. She felt like she couldn't breath. She heard the knock at the bedroom door, but couldn't answer. Dean poked his head in after a moment.

"Hey Maxie? Did you get ahold of Sammy?" She turned haunted eyes in his direction and Dean noted it with a momentary alarm. "Max? Is everything okay?" Slowly, she forced herself to shake her head in the negative. "Is Sam okay?" A broken sob escaped her.

"You'll have to ask his new girlfriend that," she choked out a little hysterically as the tears began to flow.

"What?" Dean hissed as he slipped into the room and pushed the door shut behind him. "Sam told you...? No! No, he wouldn't do that to you," he denied as he knelt by the bed beside her and rubbed her shoulder.

"He didn't have to tell me anything. I heard her," she hiccuped.

"Heard her where?" Dean asked, confused.

"At the apartment. She came over wh-when I was talking to him."

Dean felt a little relieved and he half-smiled. "It could have been a neighbor, you know," he pointed out.

"She called him sweetie, Dean," Max sobbed.

"Or a really... close friend?" he tried again. "Look Max, I'm sure it's not what you think. Sammy's just not the strayin' kind."

"It's not just today," Max argued, gulping in air. "I've heard her before. At the apartment and when he's out with 'friends'."

"So what?" Dean tried to joke. "He's not allowed to have any female friends?"

"It's not that," Max whispered. "He lied to me about her." She rushed on when Dean would have interrupted her. "He was with her and he told me that it was his professor. But they're all men. And that's not all. He barely tells me he loves me anymore. He's always busy doing other stuff. The other night, he was drunk. And those pictures I sent him? He thought they were 'nice'. He was more excited over the book I gave him!"

"Well," Dean began uncomfortably, feeling helpless under the onslaught of accusations against his brother. "Those pictures were nice and I'm sure he had good reason for... maybe the woman was a substitute. And you said he's been busy. It's normal to get a little distracted when things are stressful. Just because he doesn't say it all the time, doesn't mean he's stooped loving you."

Max stared at him and then shook her head mournfully. "I think I just want to be alone now please." Without bothering to wait for an answer, she scooted backwards on the bed and rolled away from him. With a sigh, Dean stood. He was sure that there had to be an explanation for all this. He left Max's room and grabbed his cell phone. There was only one way to get this sorted out.

"Hey, Merry Christmas Dean," Sam greeted as he answered the phone.

"I'd say the same," Dean grunted, "but it's not feelin' very merry here."

"What's wrong?"

"Well, Max is a little upset about a certain visitor that you had this morning. One who was calling you sweetie?"

"You mean Jess?" Sam asked with alarm. "She heard that?"

"Obviously."

"No Dean," Sam protested. "Jess is just a friend. She calls everyone sweetie. She was just here to ask me again to come to her parents place. She didn't think I should spend the day alone."

"All right," Dean accepted. "And is Jess who you were with when you told Max you were meeting with your professor, who is supposed to be a male, by the way?"

"What?" Sam scowled, trying to figure out what Dean was referring to. "Oh wait... Donna?"

"Uh huh," Dean muttered dryly.

"No Dean," Sam warned again. "She was helping me with Max's birthday gift."

"And you couldn't have just told Max that?" Dean groaned, exasperated.

"Well I was trying to keep it a surprise for her. That part at least," Sam explained. "I mailed one part of it, so she'd actually have something on her actual birthday."

"Okay," Dean grinned. "I'll make sure we get it. Oh, but speaking of gifts, she was a little put out that you didn't go nuts over those pictures she sent you."

"Pictures?" Sam questioned. "No, there was just one. Her and her motorcycle."

"Oh there you go," Dean laughed. "There was another one, with kittens. A little too cutesy for my taste. But you might like it."

"I must have missed it," Sam fretted, moving over to the coffee table where he'd left everything. He picked up the frame box, but it was empty. He noticed that nestled underneath it was a manila envelope. "Got it," he announced, picking it up. A business card from the photography studio was stapled to the outside and Sam glanced over it. "Hey, I was going to ask you Dean, have you guys figured out when Max is coming? Last time I asked, she said that you guys still haven't figured out an exact date." He pulled out several sheets and as Dean had said, the one on top was Max, seated on the floor with a lap full of kittens, while the one that she held was nuzzling at her chin. She was wrinkling her nose and smiling widely. "Ah," Sam sighed. "That is so adorable!"

"Uh huh. What'd I tell you?" Dean chuckled. "Anyway, it won't be the first, since Dad and I have plans for her birthday. And we'll need some time to drive down, so..." Sam let his brother ramble as he flipped through to the next picture and gaped a little before smiling. There was his girl, posing on the beach. It looked like she was half undressed to get ready for swimming. Her shirt already off, revealing a silky black bikini top. She was pushing off her jean cut-offs, the high strap of the bottoms just visible.

"Excellent!" Sam breathed out.

"Oh, you think so?" Dean asked. "I thought you'd be disappointed."

"What's to be disappointed about?" Sam grinned, his eyes raking over his girlfriend's sun-kissed flesh.

"Oh well great," Dean replied happily. "I thought you wanted her there sooner, but if you're willing to wait until after _my_ birthday, that's terrific!"

"What!" Sam snapped upright. "Dean I never said-!" He was cut off by his brother's laughter.

"That'll teach you to not pay attention," he snorted and Sam sighed and relaxed.

"So what did you say?"

"I said the fourth, is that okay?"

"Ugh," Sam groaned. "I wish she was here right now!"

Another chuckle. "Easy there tiger. Although you might want to let her know that. She's not really feelin' the love."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I figure it's cause you're such a candy ass when it comes to the PDA's," Dean teased. "But you could try telling her a little more often dude."

"I tell her I love her," Sam protested.

"Apparently you haven't as much, lately."

Sam furrowed his brow, trying to remember. "Well maybe there've been a few times I haven't said it. But that doesn't mean that I don't."

"I know."

"I mean, geeze Dean, I've literally been counting down the seconds until she gets here. It's..." he trailed off as he flipped to the next picture. The blue nightgown. Max in the nightgown, on a bed, turned toward him, her leg visible to the thigh as she stared intently at the camera. "Oh my God. I love her so much!" He laughed, a little shocked at what he was seeing, but thrilled all the same. "She is so awesome," he spoke more to himself and was startled when Dean groaned disgustedly.

"Yeah, I'm fully aware of the amazingness of Max. I don't need to hear it again."

"Sorry Dean," he offered contritely. There was one more picture left and Sam slid the sultry photo aside, only to be greeted with one that had his jaw dropping, his heart pounding and his cock throbbing. There was Max, in a shower stall... nude. True, she had her arms up, pressed against the wall and she was covered and the picture was from the hips up, but he could still see the bottom swell of her breasts. Her gaze was heavy lidded, looking... Sam inhaled harshly as he grabbed the manila envelope and looked over the card again. Donald Griffith, owner and proprietor, he read and for the first time in his life, saw red through a dangerously green haze. "Dean. Put Max on the phone!"

"Well," Dean hesitated. "I should probably talk to her first and-!"

"No! Right now!" Sam's voice was strangled and could barely form the words. Dean was obviously surprised by his brother's tone as he agreed. Sam heard a muffled conversation that took several minutes. It didn't help as he stared at the picture, Max looking as though she'd been thoroughly... satisfied.

"Sam?" her voice was breathy and hesitant and it did absolutely nothing to help his body's agitated state.

"I don't know whether I should handcuff you to my bed," he informed her heatedly, "or spank the daylights out of you. I'm tempted to do both!"

"Sam? What-?"

"When I asked you for a picture, that's what I meant," Sam growled. "I didn't mean for you to go parading around half-naked in front of some creep who was probably-!"

"Sam! What are you talking about?"

"These pictures you sent me," he grunted.

"You mean the ones that Erin took?" she clarified.

"Aaron?" Sam cried out. "There were two of them?" The jealousy boiled in him as he seethed.

"Two what?" Max wondered, mystified at his anger.

"Two men!" Sam snapped. "Oh my God! Who else has seen these?"

"Sam, I don't... wait, no! Erin, as in E-R-I-N. A woman!"

"But the card said..." Sam trailed off.

"Wait, you thought...? Oh no Sam. Donald is Erin's brother. He owns the actual store, but the studio is Erin's. She does all the photography."

Sam felt his anger deflate slightly. "Maxie, I'm sorry baby," he sighed. "It's... just the thought of some guy..."

"You were jealous?" she cried out, sounding astonished.

"Of course I was," Sam spoke rapidly. "I mean, you're gorgeous Max. And there you are, traveling around, meeting new people all the time and I..."

"But it's not like I'd ever get a chance to get to know them, even if I wanted to," she defended. "Not like you."

Sam felt something melting inside of him. "Max, there is not one person I've met here, let alone a woman, that can hold a candle to you sweetheart."

"And you've had my heart for so long that there wouldn't be any part of it left for anybody else," she countered.

"God Max," Sam groaned, looking again at the shower scene picture, now able to enjoy it for what it was meant as. "I feel like I'm gonna burn up, I want you so badly. The fourth can't come soon enough."

"Oh? Is that what was decided on?" Max asked archly.

"Dean didn't tell you?"

"No," Max chuckled softly. "He was busy telling me that I had nothing to worry about."

"You don't, you know," Sam reassured her. "I mean, honestly, and I'm not telling you this to make you jealous, but there've been a few women who were... uh..."

"Pursuing you?" Max asked, somewhat bemused.

"Yeah and if they wouldn't back off, then my friends would chase them off."

"Really?" Max giggled. "Why would they do that?"

"Well, they're so interested in my 'mystery woman', that they don't want anything to happen to us before they get a chance to meet you," Sam explained with a broad smile.

"Well, those are some nice friends," Max grinned. "I just hope they won't be too disappointed when they finally do meet me."

"Oh no," Sam denied. "They're gonna love you. In fact, I think they already do, in a way. Man, with the way they're always teasing me about you."

"Oh no," Max giggled again. "What do they say?" she asked as she made herself comfortable on the bed. Dean, completely forgotten by his siblings, watched for a moment before leaving, smiling wistfully. They were already too busy reconfirming what he already knew. However rocky their start, these two were just made for each other.


	14. A Cordial Cowboy

Title: What If... Racing Towards Destiny

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Rating: PG-13- MA

Genre: Crossover

Type: Romance

Pairing: Max Guevara/ Sam Winchester

Summary: What if... Max had been having a different dream?

Spoilers/ Timeline: This starts when Max is thirteen and going into heat for the very first time.

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first please.

A/N: This story, while being in the same universe as _When It Changes_, does not actually occur within that storyline. This fiction is just an off-shoot of what **might **have happened.

**Chapter Fourteen**

**A Cordial Cowboy**

"5...4...3...2...1!" The crowd chanted around Max and Dean as they eagerly watched the ball dropping on the tiny screen of the television of the bar they'd stopped at for the night. "Happy New Year!" rang out around them. Max felt her phone vibrate and glanced down and just out of the corner of her eye, she saw a guy that had been trying to flirt with her all night, moving in. She quickly turned and pulled her phone from her pocket, glancing at the number. It was Sam. A huge grin of relief graced her face as she answered.

"Hey sweetie!" she greeted, but thee seemed to be a lot of static on the line and she couldn't hear him. "What was that?" she asked loudly, covering her other ear so that she could hopefully hear.

"...barely...you," was all she caught.

"Hang on, I'm going outside," she chuckled.

"What?"

"Outside!" she shouted amidst the off-key singing around her. She heard him say something else again, but just shook her head ruefully as she tried to weave through the crows. She caught the look of disappointment on the cowboy's face as she evaded him. The noise level dropped considerably once she made it outside the bar. "Is that better?" they asked each other simultaneously and both laughed.

"Where did you go?" Sam asked.

"Outside. You?"

"Bathroom," Sam chuckled.

"Well thank God you called me when you did," Max drawled, shivering slightly in the frosty air.

"Why is that?"

"Some frisky young cowboy was about to get fresh with me under the guise of goodwill," she told him wryly.

"And where was Dean?" Sam asked sternly.

"He was off like a shot to spread around his own brand of New Year's cheer," Max giggled.

"Typical," Sam snorted. "And tomorrow he;ll be spreading after New Year's cheer and the day after that..."

"It's kind of a habit with him, isn't it?" Max sighed in amusement.

"So anyway, Happy New Year," Sam offered. "We've still got a couple hours to go here. And the other reason... I suppose I just wanted to be the first to... oh darn," Sam huffed and then spoke quietly. "They found me."

"Who...?" Max asked, puzzled and then heard a burst of voices and her name.

"Happy birthday sweetheart," he said as quickly as he could.

"Thanks, but what..." she didn't get a chance to finish her question.

"All right!" Sam groaned. "Hang on babe," he spoke to her and then to someone else. "Yeesh, all right! Go ahead."

Max's eyebrows furrowed together, puzzled and then eased when she heard the raucous and enthusiastic chorus of 'Happy Birthday' being sung to her. She laughed delightedly when they finished. "Awww," she crooned. "They are so sweet. Tell them thank you for me."

"She says thank you," Sam relayed dutifully. "Now get lost. I want to talk to my girlfriend!" She heard much laughter and what were probably some teasing comments before it got quiet again. "So how much longer do you think Dean'll be spreading the cheer?" Sam asked cheekily.

"It depends," Max answered, equally amused. "If there's any chance of him getting lucky..."

"Sam snorted. "Dean always thinks theres a chance."

"True," Max giggled again and then shivered. Someone cleared his or her throat from a few feet away and Max turned to see the cowboy there, holding out her coat to her. "Nag on a sec sweetie," she told Sam and lowered the phone.

"Sorry," the cowboy grinned. "I saw you duck out here and thought you might need this." He gestured with the coat and Max accepted it with a small smile.

"Yeah, I couldn't hear my boyfriend through all that noise," she explained and waned at the same time as she pulled her coat on. The warmth was a nice relief.

"Figures," the cowboy muttered ruefully. "I was gonna ask you to dance, but I just don't rustle other men's fillies. So I'll say good night instead." He tipped the brim of his black Stetson to her, gave her a charming grin and turned on his heel to head back into the bar.

"Well I'll be damned," she grunted.

"What was that?" Sam grunted as well.

"I'm just surprised that I've managed to find another man on this earth that has some semblance of manners," Max teased and then explained the happenings of moments ago. Sam laughed and agreed that they seemed to be a dying breed.

"But honestly Max, if you feel like dancing, I don't mind. As long as he keeps his hands to himself."

"Which is kind of hard to do when actually dancing," Max laughed. "At least it is here. It's not a club honey, where everyone is just jumping around."

"You know what I meant," Sam grumbled good-naturedly.

"So, is you giving your permission your roundabout way of telling me that you've been consorting with other females this evening?" she teased.

"No it's not," Sam answered easily. "And I haven't."

"Ah," Max drawled. "Then it must mean that they've been asking and you're tired of dodging, thinking up excuses and making escape plans."

"That's be closer to the truth," Sam admitted with a laugh. Max grinned.

"Well, it's fine by me, though of course the same rules would apply. You'll just have to tell the lynch mob that I okayed it."

"Lynch mob?" Sam guffawed.

"Yup," Max continued, "just tell them to cut in if it looks like trouble."

"Well okay," Sam sighed, "but I'll look mighty silly dancing with Chuck." They both laughed and talked some more. Max promised that she'd call him in the evening, after she'd opened her gifts. Hanging up, she re-entered the bar. She was a little surprised to see the cowboy at the bar, watching the few couples moving around the dance floor as the jukebox blared. She made her way over to him, shucking her jacket.

"So? You still feel like two stepping, cowboy?" she asked with a grin as he started in surprise. He carefully set his bottle of beer on the bar.

"You sure your boyfriend wouldn't mind?" he asked carefully.

"Sam said that as long as you didn't get fresh, he was okay with it," she informed him.

"And your friend over there?" he gestured towards Dean, ensconced in a far corner with two ladies hanging on his every utterance.

"Oh, you mean my bodyguard?" she asked sweetly. "AKA Dean, AKA Sam's brother?"

"Ah," the cowboy grinned. "Your boyfriend's a smart man." Max nodded happily. "'Course I do the same with my sisters and their friends when they feel like going out." He hopped of the bar stool and gentlemanly held out an arm for her.

"Oh? Do you have a big family?"

"Four little sister and you wouldn't believe how many cousins. I'm Jack by the way."

"Max," she replied as he led her to the dance floor. "You might have to teach me a few of the steps."

"Be a pleasure," Jack grinned as they began the moderately paced dance, melding in easily with the other couples. After a few revolutions around the dance floor, Max relaxed enough to note, "your accent sounds familiar. Where are you from?"

"Originally, Helena, Montana," Jack told her. "I just moved out here last fall for round-up and the ranch owner lost one of his boys that does calving in February. So he hired me on permanently."

"Well it makes sense then," Max chuckled. "I lived for a year in Geraldine when I was a kid."

"You don't say," Jack laughed. "I've got cousins on my mom's side down there. Maybe you met 'em? The Protsma's?"

"Oh no way!" Max cried out, her eyes widening. "Justine was my best friend in fifth grade! We still write to each other."

"Well I'll be!" Jack threw his head back and roared with laughter. The conversation flowed as easily as the dancing after that. Jack entertained Max with tales of her friend at the most recent family reunion and Max countered with tales from her year in fifth grade. When the music finally slowed, Jack twirled her off the dance floor with a flourish and led her to a now empty table. "Sure worked up a thirst out there," he announced as she sat. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"A coke would be great, thanks," Max smiled.

"And you sir? Can I get you another beer?" Max turned to see who he was addressing and caught Dean looming over her, doing his best to appear intimidating. If Jack hadn't had both Sam and Max's blessing, it might have worked.

"Hey Dean," she smiled. "This is Justine's cousin, Jack Crowther. Jack, Sam's brother Dean."

"Don't worry," Jack assured him, holding out his hand to Dean. "Your brother was fully aware that I was twirlin' his girl." Dean's eyebrow arched at the odd wording, but he relaxed and grinned and shook Jack's hand.

"Hey, good to meet ya," he offered. "Yeah, a refill'd be good." Jack checked what Dean was drinking and headed off to the bar. Dean took a seat and drained what little beer he had left. "So, your birthday's off to a good start, huh?"

"The best," Max announced as she tossed back her hair. She told him then how Sam's friends had dogged him so that they could sing happy birthday to her. Jack, returning to the table, heard this and happily added his felicitations. Talk turned back to Montana in general and they closed down the bar, reminiscing. They left, with Max promising to say hi for Jack in her next letter to Justine. The pair of the returned to their motel and gratefully fell into bed.

Max woke early the next morning, or later, depending on how one looked at it. She was about to go and get a shower when the phone calls began. The first was John, already on his way to meet up with them. They chatted for a while until Dean woke up enough to speak with his father while Max showered. There were more throughout the day as she and Dean brunched and watched old movies at the motel. Finally, John urged them to go ahead and get to the restaurant for dinner and just let him know where to meet him. A rock break in one of his tires had slowed him down considerably. Dean relayed the location of the restaurant that Max had already chosen. As per his instructions, they went ahead.

John showed up while they were splitting a platter of appetizers, his arms laden with gift bags and wrapped presents. They helped him settle all of the gifts on the table before he hugged Max and greeted Dean. John pulled up the chair that they indicated and asked how Max's day had been going thus far. She began an animated tale about how her birthday had actually started, exaggerating all the fun parts, which had John laughing and Dean protesting. They were served their meal while John was explaining how his tire went flat between two towns. And then his dilemma about what to do and where to go, since his spare was flat as well. Did roll the tire back the three miles to the dinky town he had just passed, where he wasn't sure there was a gas station. Or did he go on five miles and hope he'd get help there. In the end, he'd gone on ahead and sure enough, the first place he'd come to was a truck stop. There'd been plenty of helpful people there and once John had filled up the spare, one of them gave him a lift back to his vehicle. But fearing another near disaster, he'd stopped at the first place he'd could and bought a new tire to replace the other tire instead of waiting for the service center to patch up the rock break.

"And that is why I'm so damn late," he ended with a soft grunt.

"But you're here," Max smiled. "That's the important part."

"Yeah," John grumbled. "But I wanted to spend some time doing something with you other than eating."

"We figured that," Dean grinned. "That's why we're going over to the game palace when we're done here."

"And what're we going to do there?" John asked laconically as he reached for his coffee. Max and Dean glanced at each other with impish grins.

"Mini-golf!" they enthused together, startling John and he laughed.

"What is it with you two and that game?" They shared another look and shrugged.

"Clubs," Max giggled, "balls, hard targets, hitting things..."

"Competition,' Dean added enthusiastically. "How can we go wrong?"

"And the winner gets either a free game, or a pick from the prize barrel," Max added. John just shook his head as they finished their dinners. Once Max had pushed her plate away, she was ready for gifts, but Dean forestalled her.

"Uh uh," he warned with a shake of his head and then turned his gaze. Max's swiveled around to see what he was looking at and the moment she saw the small group of waiters and waitresses and kitchen staff moving towards her, they broke into song. Max closed her eyes and groaned softly, even though she was smiling. The group finished o=their song as other customers at the tables around them applauded. One of the staff set the confection he was holding on the table before Max, complete with a single, burning candle.

"Make a wish," he instructed. Max dutifully closed her eyes, waited a moment and then blew out the candle. There was no need to tell anyone that there was nothing for her to wish for, but the obvious and she wasn't going to jinx herself. Everyone clapped again as the candle went out.

"Thanks so much," Max called to the staff that had sung. "You guys were much better than the drunken rendition I got just after midnight!" There was laughter and their waiter stepped up to place desert plates and s serving utensil at her elbow.

"Thanks," Dean grinned up at him. The waiter nodded and gathered up their plates to get them out of the way, promising to be right back with more coffee.

"Cheesecake Dean?" Max grinned as she cut into the confection. "This is so awesome!"

Dean tilted his head to the side and acted all modest at the praise. "Well, I figured, why go with boring old cake when they had cherry cheesecake on the menu," he shrugged. Max's eyes lit up as she placed the first piece on the top plate and checked that the fruity layer was indeed her favorite. But before she could pass it, John had snagged the pie plate and server from her hand.

"Eat up kiddo, we can get our own," he instructed. She didn't hesitate and laughed over the portion size that Dean was trying to convince his father to give him. After their antics and eating, Max looked over the pile of gifts hopelessly.

"Where do I start?" she muttered. John chose a few gifts at random and slid them over to her. She opened, in succession, the cards from various friends from around the country, that she kept in contact with, saving Justine's for last. She'd already talked to her friend that afternoon and had happily relayed Jack's greetings, which had them laughing over what a small world it was. She showed the guys the national clothing chain gift certificate that Justine had included with her card and endured teasing about what a clotheshorse she had turned into. Molly's gift was next. A card, full of a letter as well that Max saved to read later, also contained a gift certificate to the bookstore. There were two presents in the box that Max unwrapped. She pulled out a lovely hand knit cream-colored light cardigan. "Oh," Max sighed. "This'll go perfect with those chocolate mousse slacks you got me for Christmas Dad." She smiled at their puzzled expressions. "The brown pants?" she giggled.

"Oh, why didn't you say that to begin with?" Dean groaned.

"Chocolate mousse," John snorted. "That's something you eat, not wear!"

"Well that's what the tag on them said," Max defended as she opened the smaller box. Once open, she glanced down and gave a little gasp. Inside was a broach that Max had admired every time Molly wore it. A small peacock with it's tail feathers spread proudly. The spots in the tail contained multiple colored gemstones and flickered gently under the light. It had been given to her by her mother when she had turned eighteen. And as the note stated, Max was not to worry as Molly had plenty of other mementos to pass on to her own children and grandchildren. After admiring it, John passed over the gifts from Bobby and Jim. From Jim, she received that standard Celtic knot protection necklace that he gave to all the young ladies of his special flock. From Jim, she received a specially corded leather protection bracelet that he'd made himself. He also included several photos from their Christmas visit. Max especially liked the one of Rumsfeld wearing the studded collar that Max had presented to the dog. She'd argued that he was just too good natured and needed to beef up his image.

"You know," Max sighed as she stroked her finger along the side of the photo, "that's something I wish we'd done more of."

"What?" Dean asked. "Humiliate poor, defenseless dogs?"

"No," she smiled. "Taken more pictures." John and Dean exchanged a look and a grin.

"Well, we did what we could," John philosophized as Dean pushed his gift over to his sister. She set the photos aside and opened the typically funny card. Once the present was unwrapped, they all laughed as Max picked up the digital camera that he'd picked out for her.

"Great minds Dean?" she teased.

"Well I figured Sammy could upload them on that computer of his and send me some pictures," Dean shrugged. "Then maybe I won't get lonesome for my bratty little sister."

"You're the brat," she accused happily as she moved around the table to hug him and gave him a peck on the cheek. "I love it. Thank you."

John waited until she was seated again before sliding his gift to her. It had become her habit to always save Sam's gifts for last, to savor. He kept his hands on it when she would have taken it though. "Now, I saw this," he explained, "and I thought it would be more appropriate for California than what you've got now. If you don't like it, don't worry, we can take it back and find something else."

"I'm sure I'll love it," Max grinned. She opened the gift and was stunned to find that he'd picked out a lavish, camel-colored, hip length suede coat for her. "Oh Dad," she breathed out, holding it up before her. "It's gorgeous!"

"Well try it on," Dean snorted. Max stood and slipped it on. It fit her perfectly and Max could see what John meant. It was a jacket much more suited to the balmier California weather than the down-filled parka that she had now.

She hugged John happily as she murmured, "I love it."

"Man, he's really come a long way with the clothes shopping, hasn't he?" Dean teased as John blushed. Max resumed her seat again as John produced another gift and slid it over to her.

"Now, this is from both of us." Max took the package which was floppy and rectangular and she wondered if it was some sort of gag gift. Maybe a cooking for dummies type magazine. She was pleasantly surprised to withdraw from an envelope a course catalog from Stanford. Before she could ask, a slip of paper slid free and she caught it automatically. She gasped when she read the amount listed on what was a cashier's check.

What...?" she began, puzzled.

"You were talking about taking some courses," Dean murmured, "so I uh... asked Sam for this. He uh, circled some of the courses that he was interested in." Dean took the catalog and flipped through until he found one and slid it back to her.

"And the money is to cover tuition and book fees," John explained.

"You might have to wait for spring enrollment," Dean added. "Sam wasn't sure about some of the deadlines."

"But if you decide to do something else with the money, that's okay too," John continued hastily. "It's for whatever you might want, or need." Max stared at them, a little misty-eyed.

"Gah," Dean snorted. "Thee she goes gettin' all girly on us again! Save it for Sammy's gift." Max laughed and set the catalog aside. The check however, she folded carefully and slipped into her pocket. She did not want to lose it. She opened the sentimentally sweet card that Sam had included and then reached for the box. As she unwrapped it Dean warned, "now remember, this is just one gift for you to have now. Sammy's saving whatever else he got you for when you get out there." Max nodded and unwrapped a jewelry box. She was delighted as she pulled out a silver charm bracelet. John and Dean leaned in close to see, as Sam hadn't given anyone a clue as to what it was.

"Now I know what he meant when he wrote about special moments," Max murmured as she fingered a tiny silver motorcycle.

"Oh yeah," Dean chuckled. "That was certainly a memorable day." She drew the different charms through her fingers.

"A soccer ball?" she smiled.

"And a life preserver," John noted. "I think he meant those two to go together," referring to Max saving his life at Pastor Jim's, so long ago.

"And that's gotta be Rumsfeld," Dean smiled, fingering the charm of a puppy. There was a birthday cake, an open book, a grad cap and several more, like the beach ball, that she wasn't about to explain to the blissfully ignorant males. But her favorite charm by far, was the tiny silver heart with a diamond chip in the center, obviously there to signify the pendant that he'd given her for Christmas, the one she was wearing at that moment.

"This is so wonderful," she sniffled. John took the bracelet, unclasped the catch and wrapped it around her wist.

"That boy's got good taste," he commented softly.

"I have to call him," Max announced happily, pulling her arm back to reach for her cell phone, enjoying the small tinkling of the charms clinking together.

"Told ya so," Dean grunted disgustedly.

"Well gee," John retorted softly, but sarcastically. "Not like the odds weren't so hugely in favor of her calling him. It's gotten as she so much as sneezes and she has to call and tell him."

"I know!" Dean crowed. "She had to call and tell him about roadkill the other day!"

Max ignored them as she listened to the phone ringing through. He finally answered, out of breath.

"Hey Max!" he gasped.

"Hey," she greeted. "What were you doing?"

"Umm... something," he replied evasively.

"Something?" Max repeated, her tone heavy with humorous sarcasm. "What are you hiding?"

"Something," he chuckled. "And don't try to keep fishing Maxie. "Cause if I tell you what I was doing, then I'd have to explain why I was doing it and then I'd have to explain why I was doing it. And then I'd have to tell you what I was thinking and that would just... so no."

Max arched an eyebrow. "So I'll just assume that you're doing something with regards to whatever surprise you're cooking up that Dean warned me about?"

Sam laughed. "I am neither admitting to nor denying anything!"

"All right," Max sighed. "I'll be a good girl." She ignored the males looks at her from across the table. "So I love the bracelet!"

"Ah, I'm glad," Sam enthused. "I uh... had a little trouble finding some of those."

"Well they are all perfect," she announced.

"So what have you got planned now?" Sam asked and Max heard him moving something around, but she knew better than to ask now.

"Mini-golf," she informed him as she began helping John repack her gifts and cards. Dean was busy getting a box to take the rest of the cheesecake with them to enjoy later.

"What is it with you two and that game?" Sam snorted. Max laughed for a long time before she told him.

"Dad asked the exact same thing."

"Well he's obviously just as stymied as I am," Sam grinned.

"Well," Max drawled, "seeing's how they're the only sticks and balls I'm allowed to play with right now..."

"Max!" Sam exclaimed with a shocked laugh.

"...because Dean's ticked that I keep beating his ass at pool," she ended with a laugh. She knew what they thought she was talking about, because she'd meant them to. They continued to talk and joke as John paid the bill and they stowed her gifts in the Impala. The game palace was on the same block as the restaurant, so they walked down after locking up the vehicles. They played a raucous game amidst all the other patrons. The males teased her about playing with one hand because she refused to relinquish her cell phone. It drove them nuts when she constantly his par or below, even with her self-imposed handicap. She called Sam her good luck charm, which prompted Dean into snatching the phone away. It was restored instantly when, with her hands free, she gained a hole in one. Naturally she won the game with her great scores, but when the clerk noted her hole in one he handed her a certificate for a free cone at the ice cream counter and her choice of the free game, or the barrel. Max, knowing that they wouldn't be around to use the game card, opted for the barrel. She gave a little laugh when she withdrew a tiny pair of teddy bears sharing a kiss. She was jostled aside by a pair of boys and noticed a little girl, following behind with her parents. The girl's mother was cajoling her about not pouting over just missing a hole in one. Since she had her cheesecake, Max cleared it with the parents and passed along her card for the free ice cream. After a sweet thank you, the girl skipped ahead to taunt her brothers about it.

"Passing the brat torch?" Dean teased.

"The reign of terror had to end some time," Max replied mournfully as she tucked her teddy bears into her coat. "Let's go cajole ourselves with cheesecake and even cheesier horror movies."

"Sounds good to me," Dean chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

Unfortunately, the movies were so familiar to Max, who could quote nearly every single line, that she ended up spending her time thinking of all the things she'd do when she finally saw Sam. Of course, thinking of Sam made her fidgety. And her fidgeting drove Dean nuts.

"Maybe you'd better go to bed sweetie," John directed. Max obeyed, but the tossing and turning was just as annoying.

"Can I just knock her out Dad?" Dean whined and John tiredly shook his head.

"She's just excited Dean."

"Yeah, about leaving us," Dean snorted.

"Can you really blame me?" Max sighed. "Do we really have to wait so long?"

"Sorry, we do," John stated simply. "I'm not driving anywhere until Ive had some sleep."

"So go to bed already," Max directed and promptly laid down herself. The males grudgingly complied and were sound asleep not long after. But sleep eluded Max the rest of the night. She was used to that though. Unfortunately, she wasn't used to the level of constant excitement thrumming through her system. She was so close to being with Sam that not doing something to achieve that was suffocating her. She was up so early and rummaging and repacking so much hat it woke John, who grumbled and complained. And even though she didn't ask, he finally gave in and decided that they'd head out a day early. Dean didn't fall in so eagerly with the plans until Max managed to snatch the Impala keys and threaten to leave him stranded. She knew that they weren't looking forward to loosing her full time, but she couldn't let that slow her down. She had her own way and own path to follow.

But fate stepped in as she was riding with John in the truck. She was flipping through the course catalog that Sam had sent, circling the courses that she was interested. She was checking the requirements and debating each with John. They were just coming to the Nevada California border when John's phone rang. Assuming it was Dean, wanting another break, he answered, but immediately his face grew dark.

"Caleb? What?" His voice held enough alarm that Max immediately pulled out her phone and dialed Dean while looking for someplace to pull to a stop. She found a spot and silently pointed it out to John, who nodded and she informed Dean that they were stopping. "No, we're just about to California. No. I understand. Yeah, as soon as I can." John hung up and turned to face Max, who'd rolled down her window when Dean had approached.

"Trouble?" her brother asked.

"Caleb needs help. It's urgent. I'm sorry Maxie," John apologized. "I'm the closest person he's got." Both Dean and Max caught his use of the word '_I'_.

"Okay," Dean nodded, taking charge. "Max, get any of your stuff left in the truck into the car. Dad and I'll unload your bike. Let's go." Max was already unbuckling and scrambling for the items that had gotten scattered around. The truck bounced a little as the weight of the bike was removed from it. Together, all three pulled out the few boxes loaded with her items in the truck and transferred them to the Impala to join her few duffel bags of clothing. Once the task was finished, John turned to face his daughter. She waited expectantly.

"Well," he sighed, smiling sadly. "I guess this is goodbye," he murmured.

"For now," Max quickly amended.

"For now," John agreed. He pulled her into a long hug. "If you need me for anything, day or night, you call me," he rumbled.

"I will," she whispered into his coat.

"I mean it sweetheart. If I can be there, I will."

"I know Dad," she pulled back and smiled tremulously. John sniffed once, emotions flitting across his face.

"I don't know how on earth I got such great kids,"

"Just lucky I guess," Max murmured teasingly.

"I love you sweetheart," John told her huskily and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Love you too Daddy," Max sniffled as she wrapped her arms around him once more. They stayed like that for a while until John cleared his throat.

"Well, I';m burning daylight here." He turned to Dean. "Call me when she's settled in and we'll figure out where to meet up." Dean nodded.

"Take care of Caleb Dad. I can handle Maxie."

"In your dreams," Max and John snorted out at the same time and laughed as Dean looked put out. John squeezed Max's arm once as he passed and then he clambered into his truck and was soon headed back th way they'd just come.

"All right," Dean straightened up once the truck had faded from sight. "I'll take the lead. I'll need to gas up again soon. If you need to pull over, get ahead of me to warn me."

"Gotcha," Max agreed. She pulled out her phone and set it to vibrate. "All right, let me grab my gear and I'll be set." He followed her back to the car while she grabbed her helmet and gloves. Once she started up the motorcycle, he pulled out and the trek continued.

They pulled over only for gas and later in the evening, to eat. Dean, who admitted to himself that he was just as eager to see Sammy as well, decided that they'd go ahead and keep traveling. But he was deadly serious about not driving while drowsy. Knowing that she had little to fear in that department, Max still gave in on that point because she didn't want anything to happen to her brother. They headed out again from the diner they'd stopped at, feeling better for having filled their stomachs. But along about three in the morning, Max noticed Dean slowing down. He pulled off the highway and Max followed, managing to pull the Ninja right up to the driver's side window. Dean had rolled down his window and stared up owlishly at her.

"How the hell can you not be dog tired?" he demanded surlily.

"Adrenaline?" she shrugged. "Excitement? I'm naturally nocturnal? Take your pick."

"I'd rather take a nap," Dean groused.

"Okay," Max nodded. "Let's find a motel."

"I can't," Dean mumbled through a yawn. "Seriously Maxie. I can't drive another two feet let alone who knows how many more miles."

"Oh," Max sighed in disappointment. "Well... I suppose..."

"You wanna keep goin' huh?" Dean slurred slightly. He sighed and thought it over. "All right, if you think you can handle it, go ahead and keep driving. Call me when you stop somewhere. But make sure you let me sleep for a few hours first. It won't do me any good if you call me ten minutes from now."

"And if I don't find anywhere to stop between here and there?" she asked teasingly. Dean grunted.

"Then I guess you drive straight through then. Something tells me I don't need to be there for your mushy reunion anyways."

"All right," Max grinned.

"But," Dean warned threateningly and Max sighed.

"How did I know this was coming?" she muttered under her breath, but Dean did not let that deter him.

"I know you're excited Max," he softened his tone, just barely. "But you and I both know that Sam would rather have you arrive in one piece. If you get tired..."

"I will pull over and rest, I swear to God Dean," Max replied seriously, holding her brother's gaze. "I'm not going to be stupid about this."

"I know," Dean grinned and then nodded.

"Okay," Max grinned again, "make sure the doors are locked and I'll talk to you soon."

Dean nodded, rolled up his window and secured the locks. Max watched him nestle down as comfortably as he could. She restarted her bike, chuckling as it barely disturbed him. All that mattered to her now was getting to Sam.


	15. Highway To The Danger Zone

Title: What If... Racing Towards Destiny

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Rating: PG-13- MA

Genre: Crossover

Type: Romance

Pairing: Max Guevara/ Sam Winchester

Summary: What if... Max had been having a different dream?

Spoilers/ Timeline: This starts when Max is thirteen and going into heat for the very first time.

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first please.

A/N: This story, while being in the same universe as _When It Changes_, does not actually occur within that storyline. This fiction is just an off-shoot of what **might **have happened.

**Chapter Fifteen**

**Highway To The Danger Zone**

Max pulled up to Sam's apartment building, soon to be hers as well and felt a thrill of excitement. She checked the time. It was shortly after seven in the morning. A little early, but she was sure that Sam wouldn't mind. And if he was still tired, she had no problem whatsoever retiring for a few hours. She knew she was supposed to call Dean, but she reasoned that he should be allowed to sleep until he woke up naturally. So if she waited just a little while, that would be fine. She pulled her helmet off, parked her bike at the curb and pulled the keys form the ignition.

She ran excitedly up the steps to the front door. A guy that she'd never seen before smiled at her as he exited the security door and, inspired, Max hurried to catch it. She'd really surprise Sam. She slipped in, acting as if she belonged, realizing belatedly that now she did. She took the steps quickly and lightly, even though she'd never been here before, trying not to make too much noise. She certainly didn't want to get off on the wrong foot with the neighbors. She paused outside Sm's door and thoughtfully set her helmet on the ground beside the door and stowed her keys in her pocket. She smoothed her hair back, wishing suddenly that she had a mirror. Taking a deep breath, she reached up and rapped smartly on the door. Moistening lips that were dry with anticipation, she waited. It took a few minutes for her summons to be answered and the smile faded from her face when it was.

Standing in the doorway was a slim blond, about her height, holding together a lacy robe with one hand and the door with the other. Max's eyes darted to the number on the door. It was the correct apartment.

"Can I help you?" the blond huffed finally.

"Y-yeah, uh, is Sam here?" Max forced herself to ask. She tried desperately not to jump to any conclusions. There had to be a reasonable explanation. The blonde's eyes flickered and her face remained stony with annoyance.

"He's a little busy right now."

"Oh," Max whispered. "Well, I know he wasn't expecting me-!"

"Obviously," the blond snorted.

"But if you could tell him I'm here," Max continued, trying to keep a rein on both her suspicion and her temper. "I'm M-!"

"I know exactly who you are," the blond hissed. "And you've got a lot of nerve showing up here!"

"Excuse me?" Max gasped.

"You know," the blond continued, pressing her advantage, "Sam has been nice and polite to you in the past, but he is so tired of having to deal with you."

"I-!" Max felt helpless as she heard the words pounding at her.

No," the blond continued. "We both know that Sam would rather rip off his own arm, than hurt a woman. A fact that you've repeatedly taken advantage of. But I really don't give a damn about you! So I'm the one telling you now. Whatever little fantasy world you've deluded yourself into believing? Snap out of it! Sam and I are together and we have been for a while. We're very happy together. So do everyone a favor and leave Sam the hell alone!" The door started to close and Max gaped, but then the blonde's face reappeared again. "One more thing. If you ever sneak into this building again, we'll have you arrested for harassment!" And then the door slammed shut.

Numbly, Max stooped down to pick up her discarded helmet. She made her way slowly down the steps, hugging the wall, all the implications of those

words the blond had hurled at her, still attacking her mind. She kept trying to tell herself that something had to have been wrong. There had to be some sort of explanation. But no, the blond had been in Sam's apartment. She knew Sam. She knew who Max was. It made her suddenly nauseous to think of Sam telling this woman things about Max. She'd recognized Max on sight. Had Sam showed her the pictures that she'd sent him? Had they laughed together over them? It had seemed so daring and sensual at the time and his reaction to them had been... But now Max could see maybe how childish and desperate they might seem.

She forced herself to get on her motorcycle, her movements stiff and mechanical. She'd said that Max had built herself a fantasy, was deluded. Was that true? No, it hadn't been, had it? Maybe that blond had been delusional. But if she was, why had she been in Sam's apartment. The entire family had trained themselves to be alert sleepers. Sam would have known the moment she stepped into the apartment. Max drove aimlessly, desperately reaching and searching for a reasonable, or even an unreasonable explanation. Anything but the one staring her in the face.

They hadn't been expecting her, obviously, because she'd been a day early. She'd thought to surprise Sam. She shuddered as she wondered what she would have found if she'd arrived tomorrow. Would Sam have told her that it was over? Would he have been blunt? Would he have been gentle? Another tremor ran through her as a worse thought occurred to her. What if Sam hadn't intended to tell her?

What if Sam had wanted the blond too? She would have been living blissfully with him while he lied to and cheated on her with this other woman. Tears obscured her vision and Max hastily pulled her bike over. She had no clue where she was, what her surroundings were as she stumbled off the bike. Her sobs were shuddering her so badly that it took her some time to realize that it wasn't emotion alone.

She panicked for a moment and the tears would not abate. She tried to think and for an instance, the image of her pills, safely stowed in her duffel bag, nestled in the back seat of the Impala flashed before her eyes. More tremors and tears crashed through her, one seeming to feed the other's intensity. What had just happened to her seemed to have clouded everything else in her mind and she couldn't think her way clearly through anything. Closing her eyes, collapsed on the ground, Max tried to pull herself together. She needed her pills and they were with Dean. Ergo, she needed Dean.

Max fumbled and groped through her pockets and finally her cell phone fell to the ground. Shaking and leaning forwards, she was lucky to catch the edge of the phone under her fingers.

Dean blinked as he came suddenly awake. The sun was glinting off the hood of the car and he squinted against the light. He had only a second to wonder about what had woken him, when he heard his phone ring. He reached for it where he'd left it on the seat next to him. His eyes caught the time and that it was Max calling at the same time. Grinning, he flipped open the phone, ready to teasingly lay into her for forgetting to call him until now.

"Hey," he greeted. "Finally remembered your big brother, did ya? What'd you do? Drive straight through?"

"D-dean?" Her voice was small and tremulous and something sparked inside him.

"Max? What's wrong?"

"S-seizure," she choked out.

"Son of a bitch," he swore softly. "Where are you?"

"Palo Alto," she answered.

"At Sam's?" he wondered.

"N-no," she was crying now too, making it hard to understand her. "W-went there. I c-can't go back."

"What? Why not?" Dean demanded as he started the car.

"Sh-she said they'd call the c-cops."

"She who?" he snapped as he pulled out onto the highway once more.

"His g-girlfriend."

"What?" Dean shook his head, feeling as if he'd woken up in some freak twilight zone. Nothing made any sense whatsoever. "Max? Have you got your pills?" He waited a moment, but heard nothing. "Max!" Fear gripped his heart like a vice, but then he heard a voice in the background.

"Miss? Miss? Are you okay? Oh my God!"

"Hey!" Dean yelled and a moment later someone else had picked up Max's phone, the voice female and panicked sounding.

"Hello?"

"Hey, I need your help," Dean spoke rapidly. "My sister is having a seizure and she needs her medication. Do you see a motorcycle around there?"

"I should call an ambulance," the voice uttered.

"No!" Dean shouted. "You need to do as I tell you. Is the bike there?

"Yes, it's right here."

"Good," Dean breathed a sigh of relief. "There's a latch on the seat and a compartment underneath. Open it up."

"Okay,' the voice said hesitantly and Dean heard the woman rustling around.

"Now, there should be a black nylon bag in there. It's got her medication. Look for a bottle marked tryptophan. She needs four to start with."

"There was a moment's pause and then, "got them. Oh God, I should really call an ambulance. She looks bad!"

"No!" Dean shouted again and then forced himself to explain calmly. "They'd take too long to get to her. he needs those pills now! The longer you wait, the more likely it is that she'll stroke out."

"How do I-?" the woman asked helplessly.

"Is she conscious?" Dean demanded.

"Hang on," the woman muttered. When she answered again, she sounded relieved. "She's conscious. She's trying to say something."

"Okay," Dean directed. "Help her sit up so she can take the pills."

"Okay, hang on," the woman muttered. It too a few minutes, but then she was back. "Okay, she took them," the woman informed him. "Should I call the ambulance now?"

Dean rolled his eyes, but said carefully, when he really wanted to snap, "no. Look... what's your name?"

"Nancy,"

"Okay, Nancy, I'm Dean and my sister's name is Max. Now, the thing is, Max doesn't have epilepsy, or anything like that. Her seizures are caused by other things. That means that the anti-seizure medication that the doctors at the hospital would give her, they wouldn't' work. The only thing they could do is exactly what we're doing now, okay?"

"Oh... okay," Nancy murmured. "I think she's doing better, The shaking's not so bad now."

Dean felt relief swoop through him. "Okay Nancy," the caught her attention again. "I need to call my brother. He lives in Palo Alto. Where are you at?" She gave him the approximate address and then told him that they were close to the restaurant where she'd been heading to work, when she'd found Max. Dean repeated the unfamiliar address a few times mentally. "Okay," he told her, "I'm going to hang up and call my brother so he can come get her. Can you stay with her?"

"Of course," the reply came instantly and Dean grinned a little as he heard the indignant tone.

"All right," Dean nodded. "I'll call right back." He heard her agreement and then disconnected. With eyes flickering between the road and his phone, he dialed Sam's number. But the phone just rang endlessly. Swearing again, he re-dialed, this time trying Sam's cell phone. But it too just rang endlessly until it clicked over to voicemail. "Sam! It's me. Max is there, but she's had a seizure. She's got someone helping her, but she needs you now man." He sighed and relayed the current location that Max was at. "Call me as soon as you get this message." He tried the house number once more, but no one ever answered. With a pissed off grunt, Dean called Max's cell phone back.

"Dean?"

"Yeah Nancy, it's me. Look, I couldn't get a hold of my brother," he explained. "I'm still several hours out. Is she doing any better?"

"I think so," Nancy replied hesitantly. "I gave her two more pills. Is that all right?"

"Yeah, that's good," Dean confirmed instantly. "She needs to take as many as she has to, to get the seizures under control."

"And they won't hurt her?" Nancy asked.

"No," he assured her. "That stuff is the same as what's in warm milk. It'll just make her sleepy at the most."

"Okay," Nancy sighed in relief. "So what should I do?"

"Well," Dean groaned a little, trying to think while he navigated the road. "My brother hasn't called me back yet. But I don't really like leaving her there to wait."

"She could wait at the restaurant. We're not too far from it. Just a moment," she told him and Dean could hear a muffled conversation and then she was back. "Max thinks she can walk over there now. She still looks a little shaky."

"She will for a while," Dean sighed with relief. But if Max was talking and ambulatory, then the worst of it was past.

"Okay then," Nancy spoke again. "We should be at the restaurant in about five minutes. Oh! Just let me-!" Dean's heartbeat picked up as apprehension spiked through him. "Sorry," she apologized before he could totally freak out again. "I was just getting her keys from the motorcycle. Wouldn't want it to get stolen." Dean chuckled.

"Nancy, you are one in a million. Thank you so much. For everything!"

"Oh don't be silly," she scoffed. "It wasn't like I was gonna just leave your poor sister laying there."

"No," Dean agreed. "All right, I'm calling my brother back and then I'll call Max back within ten minutes, all right?"

"Roger that," Nancy chuckled. Now that the crisis seemed to have passed, the woman seemed a lot calmer. Dean smiled as he hung up and dialed Sm again, with the same results as last time. He didn't bother with a message this time. Sam would know to call him because of the last message. And honestly, he was pissed off enough to let Sammy panic a little like Dean had. Cruel, but Dean was not at all happy about his brother's unavailability at the moment.

He glanced at his watch and then at an upcoming road sign. He still had three plus hours before he reached Palo Alto. He waited the required few more minutes before he called Max back. He felt relieved when she was the one who answered. "Dean?"

"Hey Maxie," he spoke softly. More often than not, her seizures left her with a slight headache. "How're you doing?"

"Not good," she mumbled.

"No, I don't imagine so," he sympathized. "Are you at the restaurant?"

"Yeah," she confirmed. "Nancy's getting me some warm milk."

"Good," Dean nodded. The woman was more help than he initially thought she would be. "I called Sam, left him a message to let him know what's happening," Dean told her.

"Don't bother," she interrupted him and once more he heard the tears. "He won't care."

"Max?" concern was growing in him. She needed to stay calm. "Maxie, sweetie? What happened? You said something earlier..."

"I went to Sam's apartment," she explained slowly, drawing in a huge gulp of air. "And his new girlfriend was there."

"What?" This was what hadn't made sense before.

"In her nightgown," she stressed. "And before you ask, yes I had the right apartment. She knew who I was and she made it very clear what was going on."

Dean's jaw clenched at that. "And Sam?" he growled. "What did he say?"

"I didn't even talk to him," Max muttered, sniffling.

"Well Max," Dean tried, desperately wanting to believe that his brother wasn't an all time lowdown asswipe.

"No Dean," she protested. "I tried. I thought of everything it could be. That he wasn't... But he is.

But why?" Dean demanded, even as he knew that neither of them had the answer. "If he was with someone else, why didn't he just tell you?"

"Who knows," she half sobbed, half hiccuped. "Maybe he didn't want his friends to find out? Maybe she was just a fling that developed into something more? Maybe... maybe he wanted to have his cake and eat it too. I just don't know Dean. But I can't..." she broke off with another ragged cry and Dean felt truly sick.

"Max," he protested weakly, "Sammy couldn't..."

"How do we know Dean?" Max sniffled. "All we know now is what he tells us. He can tell us anything he wants and how would we know any different? He's got this whole other life here that has nothing to do with us. And it's been so long since we've seen him. I think... I think we kept seeing him for who he was when he was with us. Maybe we just never saw... who he was becoming."

There we two things horribly wrong with what Dean was hearing right then. The first was the raw pain in Max's voice. The second was that what she said was true. Dean knew better than most that all things were possible, so this too, as she said, could have happened. "Max," he spoke quietly, "wait for me, okay? We'll figure this out together, when I get there."

"I'm so tired Dean," she complained pitiably. "I really just want to..." He knew instantly what she meant. Driving all night, the emotional stress and resulting seizure had completely worn her down and out. Right now, all she wanted to do was hide away somewhere private and lick her wounds.

"Okay," he conceded. "If you're up to it, see if you can find a motel. Get some rest. I'll meet you there, or wherever. Just let me know."

"Thank you Dean," she whispered and then hung up.

Dean settled his phone on the seat beside him. He knew how Max was feeling because he was feeling it too. The sense of betrayal was gnawing at him. He'd always thought that he and Sam were closer even than twins in some ways, due to their upbringing. When Sam had grown up and developed his own interests, Dean had always felt like he still had a handle on what made Sammy tick. His falling in love with Max had thrown Dean for a loop, but in many moments of reflection, it too had come to make sense. Even Sam's decision to leave them. Dean had known every nuance of the reasons and feelings going into it. He hadn't liked it, but he had understood. But Max was right.

Lately, if he thought about it, Sam had been a slightly different person. Each incident, taken by itself, was easily explainable, but together on the whole, it painted a very different picture. Dean really couldn't cont Sam keeping secrets among that, since his little brother had always been a solitary and very private person. But partying? That was atypical. Being drunk, especially when he was still underage? That had boggled Dean's mind and he had chalked it up to a singular, holiday related event. Maybe it wasn't. He had kept telling them that his friends were dragging him out and insisting on his company. Maybe their company wasn't so much about partying as it was about keeping an eye on Sam while he cut loose. It was always the quiet ones, wasn't it?

And then there had been other incidents that Max had spoken about. Their whole family was used to lying. Used to coming up with stories and excuses. The only problem for Sam, was that it wasn't so ingrained in him that a lie was on his lips before the truth ever was. It took him a few minutes to come up with something plausible. And when he was caught off guard, he'd say the first thing that popped into his head. So maybe that was why he had called that woman, supposedly helping him with Max's birthday gift, his professor. Max's call had caught him off guard. If he hadn't been really up to something huge, he could have said that she was another student, a store clerk, someone asking for directions. He could have said any of the hundreds of ordinary people that populated the world that would have been more plausible than the excuse that he had used. Sam had chosen the one thing in the world that Max would know was a lie.

Dean grimaced as a new thought occurred to him. What if Sam had been doing it deliberately? What if he hadn't known how to tell Max about what was going on wit him and he'd been dropping hints, trying to force a confrontation. But then, why had Sam perpetuated the problem by telling Dean the things that he had? When he pulled over an hour after he'd started out, to gas up, Sam still hadn't called him back. Excuses flew through Dean's mind, but honestly, could anything excuse that? Maybe only if Sam were dying. Dean paid for his gas and coffee and headed out again.

Sam, regardless of how he felt about Max now, couldn't be that uncaring about her life. Dean was sure of that. But again, that feeling that he didn't really know his brother at all, made the rage boil within him. But worse than that was the disappointment that tinged everything. Sighing, he picked up his cell phone to try calling Sammy again. No one answered at the apartment and when he tried Sam's cell, it clicked immediately over to voicemail. So wither Sam had shut the phone off or was talking to someone else. When the message indicated to, Dean left another message, his voice tired and defeated.

"So either you're dead or dying. That or you just don't give a crap about what's happened to Max anymore. I really don't know which and I'm tired of trying to figure it out. I'm also tired of trying to clean up your messes. You wanna screw around? Fine! But doin' it this way? That makes you about the slimiest rat bastard to crawl this earth. Don't bother calling me back because I really can't talk to you right now."

Dean snapped the phone shut and threw it back to the seat and rested his head against his left hand as he held the steering wheel with his right. The phone rang suddenly, startling him and he felt a wild surge of hope that was dashed when Max's name came up on the screen. "Hey Max," he greeted softly. He listened as she told him which motel she'd gone to and the address and that she was going to sleep for a while. He was to call or knock, or both when he arrived. He agreed, letting her know that he'd still be a few hours. After hanging up, he turned on some music, trying to drown out the part of his brain that refused to let this problem go.

It was still bothering him so badly, that when he arrived in Palo Alto, he headed straight to Sam's apartment, instead of going to Max. She was his first concern, but at least she wasn't shutting him out. He gained access to the building in much the same way that Max had earlier that morning. And even though he felt like doing worse, he forced himself to knock calmly at the door. It was answered by a slim blond, who must have been the girl that Max had been referring to. She smiled and Dean would have labeled her as cute, but for the part she had played in hurting his sister.

"Can I help you?" the girl asked politely.

"Yeah, I need to talk to Sam."

The smile didn't fade as she informed him, "sorry, Sam doesn't live here anymore."

Right.

The girl made to close the door, but Dean's hand shot out and caught it. "Don't," he warned. "I know damn well that Sam lives here. So you may as well tell him to get his sorry ass out here!" He pushed the door open wider and stepped in. "Sam!" he called loudly.

"Get out or I;ll call the police!" the girl shrieked.

"You sure like that threat," Dean snorted as he advanced across the living room.

"I mean it," she warned, picking up a cordless phone from the coffee table.

"Do what you gotta do lady," he sneered. "I'm not going anywhere until I talk to my brother. Sammy!" That certainly got the blonde's attention. The phone fell to her side as her puzzled face beheld him.

"You're Dean?" she questioned. Christ! Max was right. The girl obviously knew Sam.

"In the flesh," he snapped. "And getting more pissed off by the second!"

"Wait," the girl whispered. "Is everything okay?"

Dean whirled and frowned at her, his face so dark that she took an involuntary step backwards.

"You ask me that after what you did to my sister this morning?" Dean growled and immediately the blond looked confused again.

"Wait! Monique is your sister?" she demanded.

"No," Dean corrected icily. "Max." He shook his head. "Who the hell is Monique? And who the hell are you? I'm gettin' confused here." He shook his head, as if trying to clear his mind.

"So am I,' the blond whimpered as she sank down to perch on the edge of the sofa. "Max is Sam's sister?" she shrieked softly. "He said she was his girlfriend!"

It was beginning to dawn on Dean, what might have happened. "She is," he confirmed quickly. "They've just been together for so long that I consider her to be my little sister. We're all pretty close. It's like she's already family."

Relief washed over the girl's face, and then clouded up again. "Oh God," she wailed. "Sam's going to kill me. I really, really, screwed up."

"Yeah, apparently so," Dean concurred with a wry grin. Man, if it was anything like he was thinking, then... yeah. She looked up at him and then stood swiftly.

"Do you know where Max is? I've got to fix this," she asked, biting at her lip. Dean nodded.

"Yeah, that'd be a good idea. Let's go." He waited for her to gather her purse and keys and headed out the door. "You know, I never got your name."

"Oh, I'm Jess. Jessica Moore."

"Ah, one of the lynch mob?"

She laughed shakily as she pulled the apartment door shut behind them. "you heard about that, huh?"

Dean grinned. "Yup. And I'm starting to think that's what was going on today."

"Can I tell you about it while we go?"

"You got a deal, sweetheart," he agreed as he led her out to his car.

They arrived at the motel, easier to find with Jess' helpful directions. Dean could see the Ninja parked there. He led Jess to Max's room and knocked loudly on the door. "Maxie? It's me! Open up!" It took a few minutes as they heard movement inside and then the door swung inward and then his arms were full of his sister. "Hey," he whispered softly. "It's okay."

"I thought you'd never get here," she mumbled.

"Yeah, I finally made it," he smiled and let loose as she pulled back. It was then that Max realized that there was someone else there. She started and her face darkened and flushed.

"Max, it wasn't what you thought. I promise. Would you please calm down and hear her out. Would you do that for me? Please?"


	16. Getting To Know You

Title: What If... Racing Towards Destiny

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Rating: PG-13- MA

Genre: Crossover

Type: Romance

Pairing: Max Guevara/ Sam Winchester

Summary: What if... Max had been having a different dream?

Spoilers/ Timeline: This starts when Max is thirteen and going into heat for the very first time.

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first please.

A/N: This story, while being in the same universe as _When It Changes_, does not actually occur within that storyline. This fiction is just an off-shoot of what **might **have happened.

**Chapter Sixteen**

**Getting To Know You**

Sam yawned as he exited the bathroom, toweling his hair dry. He'd gotten up so early to get started on his days errands and he was finding that he was paying for it now. He heard his cell phone chirping in the kitchen and he changed directions to go see who had called him. "It's about time," he muttered as he reached to pick it up. He'd gone to use it earlier, while he was out and found that he had no service where he always had before. He'd checked and the battery was charged. Once he had gotten home, he's called the local office for his provider and found out that they were having trouble with the new tower that they'd just erected. Service would be restored once the repairs had been completed. Inconvenient, but not dire.

The phone chirped again as he picked it up and he noted that he'd missed several calls and that there were two voice mails. He retrieved them and waited, a smile on his face, until he heard his brother's panicked voice. Fear clenched at his heart and his gut. 'Please God,' he silently chanted to himself, hoping that the second message would tell him that everything was well. But it inly scared him worse. The time index indicated that the second call had been awhile ago. What the hell had Dean been muttering about? He dialed Dean's number, his mind whirling with a spate of confused questions.

"Hey Sammy," Dean greeted as he answered his phone. The cheerfulness of his brother's tone eased the fear just a fraction.

"Dean! Is Max-!"

"She's okay," his brother hastened to assure him. "She's worn out and emotional, but otherwise, okay."

Sam sagged against the counter as relief poured through him. "Dean, what the hell happened? I couldn't make anything out of your messages."

"Yeah, sorry about that," Dean gave an apologetic and rueful chuckle. "This morning has been screwed to hell and back. How come you didn't call me back until now?"

"Tower problems," Sam answered tersely. "I just got service back."

"You didn't answer the other phone either."

"I haven't been home most of the morning," Sam sighed. "And when I was, I had the music on while I was working. I um, probably didn't hear it."

"So it was just bad timing, huh?"

"I guess," Sam shrugged. "Dean, you said that Max is here. Where exactly?"

"Uh, currently at a motel," Dean replied evasively. Sam's eyes fluttered shut.

"Dean? What happened?" He heard his brother sigh and then he launched into a swift explanation of what had occurred An explanation that had Sam sweating under his breath. When his brother finished, he whispered, "she doesn't trust me."

"Dude!" Dean complained. "Look at it from Max's point of view. Jess was there, ion a nightgown, and that girl told me herself, she was down right nasty. Max told me when I first talked to her that she was trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, but Jess pretty much blew her out of the water. Plus there's the fact that you have lied to her in the past. Like that other woman, uh..."

"Donna," Sam supplied bitterly. "About her Dean..."

"Don't worry," Dean soothed. "Jess explained your little project to me."

"She did?" Sam asked with alarm.

"Yeah, she wanted to still try and keep it a surprise for Max. So she told me so that I could help her cover."

"Oh, okay," Sam nodded slowly. "So, uh, what do you think of it?"

"Dude," Dean snorted. "She's gonna go nuts. She'll love it."

"I hope so," Sam smiled.

"I know so," Dean countered. Sam pursed his lips in contemplation. Once again, his brother had helped him see the light. He supposed he really couldn't blame Max for thinking as she did. He knew Jess. She was a very intense and passionate person when it came to defending something she believed in.

"You're right Dean," he gave in.

"Of course I am," Dean snorted and then paused. "About what?"

Sam laughed. "It's not Max's fault," he began, but Dean interrupted

"It's no one's fault," he stressed. "Just a situation where a few wires got crossed. But we're straightening things out now. And as soon as they're done, we'll head your way and you two can have the Hallmark card reunion you've been dreaming of."

"Oh no!" Sam started. "No Dean, I've still got stuff to do! Can't you stall her?"

"Sam, she won't care. It's the thought that counts, right?"

"Please Dean," Sam begged. "I just want things to be perfect. It won't take long." He glanced up at the wall clock, mentally calculating. "Can you give me until two?"

Dean quickly mulled it over. "All right," he conceded. "We'll see you at two this afternoon."

"So, uh..." Jess fidgeted as she stood, just inside the door to the motel room. "We didn't really, uh, get off on the right foot this morning." The glare that Max threw her way was so scornful and scathing that Jess edged backwards, just a little. She swallowed convulsively and tried to gather her courage. "I don't suppose there's any way that we could just forget what happened this morning and start over, is there?" Max glanced away, her arms crossing, her body tense. She hadn't promised Dean anything and she was not about to make any of this easy for the other woman. "So, I'm Jess," she introduced herself.

"Well great," Max snorted and tossed her hair back over her shoulder. "Now that we're no a first name basis, we can get together and have pajama parties and braid each others hair and share all our secrets!"

Jess flinched, but saw her opening. "That's the thing though. This morning, I thought you were someone else."

"Oh my God,' Max groaned, her eyes rolling up a little. "How many girls-!"

"Oh that didn't come out right," Jess grunted. "Okay, let me make this clear. Sam has never cheated on you. Not with me, or any other girl."

"So the reason you felt compelled to convince me that he had, was what? You're a drama major and your teacher won't pass you until you prove that you can make your audience really feel it? Well bravo," Max clapper her hands and then held up both thumbs. "A plus performance."

"Okay, I deserve that," Jess sighed. "But if you knew the girl that I thought you were, then I think you'd think that it was... justifiable."

"And just who is this other woman you keep referring to?" Max demanded.

"Monique Fournier," Jess answered promptly. Max arched an eyebrow.

"And she is?"

"A real pain in the ass," Jess grinned, since Max seemed to have relaxed her grip on her anger slightly. "Let me start at the beginning," Hess sighed. "Monique started here last fall semester. And instantly, she started going after Sam. But he wasn't interested," Jess hastened to assure Max. "He never has been. I mean, there wasn't just Monique." She winced at how bad this was seeming, but bravely continued on anyways. "So, trying to get him, she pulled about every trick you can think of. But Sam... well, he was polite and all, but he tried to make it clear to her that he really didn't want anything to do with her. But Monique, unlike the others, never lost interest. The more he pushed her away, or avoided her, pretty much anything he did, just made her chase him all the harder."

Max chewed on her lower lip, her eyes darkening. "Why didn't he tell me?" Jess shrugged.

"Well at first, there was nothing to tell. Maybe he figured that she'd find somebody else to harass. And later, well he told me that he didn't want to upset you. But anyways, it was getting so bad that somebody would always hang out with him, whenever he went out, just to run interference, to keep her away from him or provide an excuse so that he could leave. But then, there was another girl, she's been in our study group a few times, Ronnie. Well, she started a rumor that Sam and I were dating secretly. That we weren't public for a lot of reasons. I don't know if she was trying to help Sam because she liked him, or if she was trying to get rid of Monique or what. Sam and I were kind of the last to know, you know?"

Max just shook her head helplessly. "Why didn't he just tell her about me?"

"He did!" Jess exclaimed. "Over and over again. But the thing was Max, there were rumor going around about you too."

"About me?" Max gasped, startled. Jess nodded and moved to take a seat on the bed.

"See, Sam did talk about you. Not much at first. I mean, I know now that he's a pretty private person. But when no one ever saw you and you never visited him, well some people thought that he'd just made you up."

"Made me up?" Max echoed incredulously. Jess nodded once.

"Yeah. Everyone used to tease him about his 'mystery woman'. I mean, we still do, but its all in fun."

Max glanced down at herself. "Gotta say, Sam has got one hell of an imagination." Jessica laughed and the tension finally seemed to melt away. "So you thought I was Monique this morning?" Max clarified for herself and Jess nodded. "But how did you get us mixed up?"

"Well, I've only ever seen Monique from quite a distance," Jess explained. "You two look quite a bit alike. Plus, there's the fact that Sam said you were a redhead."

"I was," Max chuckled wryly. "The last time he saw me, that is. I let it grow out a while ago."

"So you see," Jess made a face, "I thought I was doing you a favor. I thought I could capitalize on that rumor about Sam and I and scare her off for at least long enough for you to get here and settle in and be warned about her before you had to deal with her."

"Okay, duly warned then," Max smiled. "And believe me, I will _not_ forget about her."

"Good, I'm glad," Jess smiled as well. "I really don't like her!" Max laughed at the ferociousness the other girl put into her statement.

"Okay," Max sobered up slightly. "That explains this morning, but it begs the question-!"

"What was I doing there so early and in my nightgown?" Jess concluded swiftly and Max nodded. "Well, I had gone to my parents house for Christmas. And that was me, by the way, Christmas day? I had invited Sam to come with me. I didn't like the idea of him spending the day alone. I stopped by again to see if he'd changed his mind. But he hadn't. Anyway, when I got back to my apartment, I found a notice on my door that our floor was scheduled to be fumigated, starting on the twenty-seventh."

"That's not a lot of notice," Max wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"That's what I thought," Jess crowed. "And then I found out that my roommate _forgot_," she made air quotes, "to tell me when we got our first notice. I would have gone back to my parents, but it's too long of a commute fr me to get to work."

"So Sam offered to let you stay?"

"Like the sweetheart that he is." They both smiled at that.

"Sam always says that I'm too impatient for my own good," Max informed her impishly.

"But you can see why I didn't let you in this morning? If Monique had seen the blankets on the couch, then she'd have known for sure that Sam and I weren't dating."

Max shook her head in amusement and then sighed. "I wonder why Sam never showed you my picture."

"Sam has pictures of you?" Jess shrieked softly. "That brat! He always said that you were extremely camera shy! We used to beg to see pictures of you."

"Oh well," Max shrugged. "I just sent these this past Christmas. And they were pretty... personal. Some of them."

Jess' eyes widened as she caught the implication. "Oh, he must keep them in the bedroom... or something." They laughed again. "I really am sorry about this morning," Jess whispered a little shyly.

"Well, you were trying to protect my turf, so, apology accepted."

"Shall we try it again?" Jess impishly held out her hand. "Jessica Moore, student, bodyguard and hopeful friend."

"Max Guevara, girlfriend, send me a resume and I think you've got a deal." The two shook hands solemnly and then collapsed on the bed, laughing.

Dean found them that way a moment later, his eyes softening as he beheld the massive turnaround in his sister's mood."So I take it that you two got everything worked out?" he asked happily. Max nodded and sat up.

"Yeah. For once you aggressive, confrontational manner came in very handy."

"Yeah, I do have my uses," Dean agreed, with his eyes twinkling. "Many and varied."

"But you're mostly a pain in the ass," Max teased.

"Hey," Dean pouted mockingly. "And after I broke into Sam's and defended your honor, you still say that?"

Max's eyes grew large. "Oh Dean! You didn't?"

"He did," Jess confirmed with a grin. "Scared me enough that I was about to call the police. Until I figured out who he was, of course. And that reminds me. How did you both get in so easily? The building's supposed to be secure." Dean and Max exchanged glances.

"Walk fast and act like you belong," Max quipped. "Some guy was just coming out the door when I got there. You know, I still had my bike keys in my hand. That guy probably figured they were apartment keys and that I was okay, that I lived there too." Dean laughed and the girls' eyes swung to him.

"That's pretty much how I got in too. So much for that security." Jess goggled at them.

"I'm sorry," she gasped and then giggled. "Sam told me that early on, Monique got into the building when e was at class."

"Oh no," Max groaned.

"Yeah," Jess nodded. "She convinced the apartment manager that she had to deliver a package that was for Sam, except he wasn't home. SO he let her in. Unfortunately for her, he followed her up to Sam's apartment. According to the manager, she tried to convince him to let her into Sam's apartment, but he wouldn't allow it. He took the box she had and said that he'd see to it that Sam got it. And then he sent her on her way."

"Well thank goodness some people have some common sense around there," Max chuckled.

"What was in the box?" Dean asked, equally amused. Jess pursed her lips, her eyes dancing.

"A slinky nightgown, some candles. You know. Everything she'd need to plan a seductive evening."

"Oh no she didn't," Max growled, her face tightening. "I can see why you were talking harassment charges."

"I wonder why Sam never did," Dean mused.

"Well," Jess interjected, "he had our friend Diane take the box back to Monique and tell her not to try anything like that again. She got the message. Every time after that, she had a legitimate seeming excuse to be around Sam."

"You're gonna have to watch out for this one Max," Dean teased his sister and then turned to Jessica. "I'm sure she's up to the challenge though. I have never met a more devious mind than hers."

"Yeah," Max teased right back. "I've already devised seven scenarios in which to happily and permanently remove this woman from Sam's life."

"And how many of those include murder?" Dean asked cheekily as Max looked surprised.

"All of them," she snorted with a grin. "I said permanently, didn't I?" Dean and Jess laughed as Max wiggled her eyebrows at them.

"No, but seriously Max," Jess sighed, "I really don't think that Monique will be a problem. She can only get between you and Sam if you guys let her."

"So just don't let her," Dean finished.

"Yes," Max agreed mildly. "And now speaking of going and getting and Sam... can we please?" She made to move to the door, but Dean stalled her.

"Hold up," he warned. "I just talked to Sammy and h's not ready yet." Max made a face. "I mean, his surprise isn't ready yet," he amended.

"I don't care about that," Max huffed. "I just want to see him."

"See, I told him that you'd say that," Dean pointed out reasonably. "But Max, he's been working on this surprise for a while and he really wants everything to be perfect... for you. Do you really want to ruin that?" Max stared at him, indecisiveness flickering over her face.

"No!" she finally burst out. "Argh!"

"Okay," Dean grinned, "so here's what I figure. Sammy only needs a few more hours. And since I was so cruelly denied breakfast this morning, i am just starving. So I was wondering if you two lovely ladies would like to join me for lunch?" He held out his hand to help Jess up from the bed and Max had to smother a grin. Now that her angst hour was over, Dean was certainly back to spreading the cheer, just like Sam had said.

"I know a little diner, not far from here," Jess informed him with a sunny smile on her face. "If you don't mind."

"As long as it's edible, then anything is fine with me," Dean assured her with a wink. Max couldn't hide her grin that time. None of Sam's single friends of the female persuasion were safe with his big brother in town. She wondered if she should say something to Jess. Maybe if it looked like anything was developing. Otherwise, Jess was a big girl, she could handle herself.

Dean went out to the Impala to grab his duffel bag and returned swiftly, stowing it just inside the door. He then led the girls back out to the car. He artfully got Jess, who had opted to sit in the backseat, to talk about herself and the college courses she was taking. For one reason, it saved him from answering questions about this life that he'd rather not divulge. And for the other reason, it made him look like a great listener, which chicks really dug. Jess directed them to the diner and led them in as Dean held the door open for them. They picked out a table and seated themselves. A waitress came over and greeted Jess by name.

"Hey Alli," Jess grinned. "I didn't know you were working today."

"Just some extra shifts over winter break," the woman explained. "Never too early to start paying off the Christmas shopping spree credit card madness."

Jess nodded and then gestured to Alli. "Guys, this is Allison Michaels, also a friend of Sam's." Max recognized the name and grinned up at the woman. "Alli, this is Sam's brother, Dean. And this, is Max."

Allison's eyes grew wide and she squealed softly. "Sam's Max?" she clarified and Max nodded. She was about to stand up and offer her hand to the woman, but Allison threw herself over and hugged max. "Oh it's so great to meet you finally!" she exclaimed and then straightened up. "We didn't think you were getting here until tomorrow. Oh Sam's been so excited!"

"And he's apparently not the only one," Dean commented with a wry grin and Allison blushed.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "It's nice to meet you as well. It's just that lately, all Sam ever talks about is Max."

"Boy, I'm really feeling the love here," Dean pouted. All three women laughed at him.

"Face it Dean," Max taunted, "it's 'cause I'm prettier."

"Yeah, yeah," Dean groused. "But just wait until you get settled here and everyone figures out what a brat you are. Then talk will turn to Sam's dashing, mysterious, older brother."

"And who would that be?" Max retorted instantly. "John have some illegitimate sons running around out there?"

"Bite your tongue missy miss!" Dean grunted. "Oh, speaking of Dad, I should call him."

"And tell him what?" Max puzzled. "Thanks to your successful efforts to subvert me from my mission, I'm not settled yet. And besides, he's probably still busy helping Caleb with whatever it was he needed."

Dean debated that for a moment, before returning his phone to his coat. "You're right, I'll call him later. So Allison? What would you recommend?"

They spent a long lunch, regaling each other with funny and sometimes embarrassing tales of their youth. And Max had any worried about Jess and Dean relieved. Towards the end of the meal, Dean excused himself from the table. Jess leaned towards Max as they watched him for a moment.

"Dean's quite the flirt, isn't he?" Jess whispered conspiratorially.

"I'd say it was second nature for him, but it's not," Max sighed. " He was born that way."

Jess giggled and then sighed. "I've seen his type before. Way too many times. Great to have fun with, but just not in it for the long haul. Too bad though. He's really cute."

"I don't know," Max drawled, consideringly. "He's always just been Butt-head to me." They laughed and then Max asked, "So I know Dean figured out pretty quickly that you're not seeing anyone. But, and I'm getting personal here, would you be interested in the long haul?"

"Some days," Jess shrugged, "not really. Other days yeah. I guess it just depends on my mood. I know every time I hear Sam talk about you, I keep thinking, I want a love like that."

"What's so great about Sam and I?" Max frowned. "We're just a normal couple."

"Right," Jess rolled her eyes. "Do you know, you and Sam are the only surviving long distance relationship in our year?" It's true," Jess continued when Max exhibited surprise. "You guys are like, the relationship standard around here." Max laughed and Jess looked on indulgently.

"What's so funny?" Dean asked as he returned to is seat.

"I was just trying to educate Max on the ind and outs of campus romances." Dean frowned as Max shook her head.

"I'm sorry," she directed to Jess, "but all this... whatever... over Sam and I? It just seems so... so..."

"Soap operish?" Jess grinned. "No it's worse. There's no drama here. Just melodrama baby," she snorted. "And sadly, by my actions this morning, I too have succumbed." She bowed her head mockingly, sending Max off into gale of laughter again.

"Well, if you drama queens are ready," Dean teased as he reached for the bill, "it's time for the last act."

That announcement galvanized Max into action. She grabbed her coat and jumped up from her seat. She went to say goodbye to Alli, for now, while Dean paid the bill. She clambered into the car and fidgeted while Jess and Dean settled themselves in. Once Dean got going, it took Max a few blocks to realize that they were headed in the wrong direction.

"Uh Dean?" she gestured out the window. "The apartment is that way."

"I know."

"Well shouldn't we go that way?"

"If that's where your surprise was, we would. But it's not."

"So where are we going?"

"That's a good question," Dean nodded and caught Jess' eye in the rear view mirror. Max completely missed the wink.

"You don't know where you're going?" she demanded shrilly.

"Calm down Max," Jess chuckled, taking pity on the girl. "That's what I'm here for."

"Oh, okay," Max replied sheepishly and then took a deep breath. "Oh! Oh, I should have something for him!" she exclaimed.

"Like what?" Dean squawked indignantly.

"I don't know," Max mumbled. "Flowers or chocolates or... something."

"Hey Max," Dean reached over to squeeze her hand reassuringly. "Remember, this is the rest of your birthday gift. You don't need to have anything for Sam. Besides, I'm sure that all he wants is you."

Max smiled and squeezed back. "You're right," she sighed. "Sorry. I'm just so nervous. It's been so long..."

"And it's just a few blocks more," Jess added happily. "You'll want to take the next right Dean."

He complied and Max noted that they'd entered another suburb. Was Sam throwing her a party at someone's house? Or maybe this was the way out to the lake, she wasn't sure. Dean made a quick left and they found themselves on a car lined street, full of small one-level homes. Dean slowed and Max felt her heartbeat pick up.

"There!" Hess said excitedly, pointing to the right. Dean pulled in at the curb and shut the vehicle off. They were parked behind a small blue Honda Civic. Max turned to ask Dean what was going on, but he was smiling and waving at someone out the window. With an excited gasp, Max whirled in her seat and saw Sam, seated on the steps of the porch of the house, in front of which they were parked. He stood up even as she pushed the door open and climbed out.

The door was left to hand open as she rushed up the walk into his open arms. Sam was so exuberant to have her there at last, that he swung her around. When her feet landed on the ground, Max tilted her chin up, her ands around his neck as he bent to meet her, his hands at her waist, pulling her as close to him as physically possible as they greeted one another after the longest of absences.

The pair in the car watched all of this, mesmerized by the long anticipated reunion. It did not disappoint. There was a sniffle and then, "awww!"

"You know," Jess chuckled, "for all your macho man charisma Dean, I think you're just a big old softie."

"I am not," Dean scoffed.

"Yes you are."

"No I'm not! But, you know, who could resist the...," he gestured at the lovers.

"No one," Jess agreed solemnly, her eyes still glued to Sam and Max and the picture they made.

"I mean, my little brother and Max and the... awww!"

"Told you so," Jess chuckled.

"Okay fine!" Dean snorted and then grinned cockily back at her when she looked at him. "But if you say a word, I will deny it to my dying day!"

"I wouldn't expect anything less."


	17. Reunited

Title: What If... Racing Towards Destiny

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Rating: PG-13- MA

Genre: Crossover

Type: Romance

Pairing: Max Guevara/ Sam Winchester

Summary: What if... Max had been having a different dream?

Spoilers/ Timeline: This starts when Max is thirteen and going into heat for the very first time.

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first please.

A/N: This story, while being in the same universe as _When It Changes_, does not actually occur within that storyline. This fiction is just an off-shoot of what **might **have happened.

**Chapter Seventeen**

**Reunited**

"I can't believe you're finally here," Sam murmured into Max's hair as he held her close. She nodded against his chest.

"It's been way too long," she agreed. "But I made it."

"I hear there were some bumps along the way," Sam sighed.

"Mm, more like massive roadblocks," Max echoed his sigh, pulling back slightly to look up at him. "Sam, about this morning, I'm sorry. I really didn't-!"

"Sh," he hushed with a fond smile. "I know Jess can be darn convincing when she wants to be. It's already forgotten."

"Mm hmm," she eyed him warily. "Maybe for you. But there are certain things I think we need to discuss. Namely Monique."

"Yes ma'am," he winced and then smiled again as she snuggled back into him.

"But that can wait until later," she decided. "Right now I just want to enjoy being in your arms. It feels so good."

"It does, doesn't it?" Sam grinned, squeezing her even tighter.

"I could just stay here for the rest of my life," she muttered contentedly.

"Oh really?" Sam countered. "'Cause I can think of a few better places we could be."

Max smirked up at him. "You're right," she nodded abruptly. "So let's go."

Sam laughed loudly at her exuberance."Don't you want to open your other birthday gifts first?"

"They can wait," ax shrugged them off. The corner's of Sam's mouth quirked up.

"What happened to my impatient, overly curious girl?" h e teased.

"She got burnt this morning and learned her lesson," Max retorted immediately.

"It figures," Sam rolled his eyes upward. "Just when I want you to be, you aren't."

"Well maybe that's because I've already got everything I need to make my life perfect, right here." She stroked his cheek and his eyes softened.

"Can I get one chance to try and make things a little better, hm?"

"Of course," Max wrinkled her nose. "If its that important to you." He nodded and let her loose.

"Come on," he directed and then glanced belatedly at his brother and Jess, both of whom had been waiting patiently at the car. "Hey guys," he greeted and Dean straightened up from where he'd been leaning on his car.

"Sheesh! Took you long enough," Dean groused good-naturedly.

"Sorry," Sam joked, "you just don't rate compared to the most beautiful woman in the world." Max and Jess grinned at one another as Dean pouted, again.

"I'm starting to think I'm gonna have to do something drastic to get any attention around here," Dean snorted, shoving his hands into his jean pockets.

"A sex change operation would probably be a good start," Max teased as Sam tugged her towards the house.

"See?" Dean frowned, talking to Jess as they followed the couple to the porch. "I told you she was a brat."

"Well," Jess drawled, getting into the spirit of things, "I can kind of see her point." Dean raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Your eyelashes are so long, it makes your eyes look very pretty," she teased and he grunted in protest. "Thank goodness you've got the rest of those chiseled features to compensate." Dean grinned and winked at her.

"If you two are done flirting?" Sam hinted wryly. He had scooped up two small boxes that had been resting on the top step of the small porch. "So," he began, turning back to Max, "when I was deciding what to get you for your birthday, I kind of chose things that go together." He held out the smaller of the boxes and Max took it from him. It was simply tied shut with a ribbon, both boxes were. As she untied the ribbon, Max recognized the name of the jeweler's. It was the same as the box that had held her charm bracelet.

"Another charm?" she asked as she worked the box top open. Sam just smiled indulgently. She removed the lid and nestled it underneath the box. As she had surmised, it was another charm, a small, silver key. "Oh," she smiled. "A key?"

"Well," Sam grinned happily as he reached out and stroked her wrist, just above the bracelet that she had not removed once since receiving it, "like I said, a charm for every special moment and memory. And it goes with this." He took the box from her hands and replaced it with the other one. Max eyed him as suspicion started to dawn on her. She untied the second box and pulled the lid off to find nestled inside, a set of keys attached to a key chain. Max looked up at Sam, hen to the house and then back to Sam as her eyes misted over.

"Oh Sam," she whispered.

"I uh, wanted you to have a real home to come to," he explained softly as she threw her arms around his neck.

"Don't you know you're my home?" she countered. "Wherever you are is where I am happy." She pulled hi down for a lingering kiss that he happily accepted. When they finally broke apart, she smiled broadly. "Thank you Sam. This is so..." she just couldn't find the words, but he understood anyway. They heard what sounded suspiciously like a sniffle and glanced over at the duo beaming at them. Dean quickly jammed his hands, one of them holding something clenched tightly, into his jacket pockets and gestured towards the door.

"So? We going in or what?"

"We're going in," Max confirmed with a nod. Sam took her free hand in his and opened the door for her and followed her inside. But Dean stalled Jess when she would have followed.

"Why don't we give the lovebirds a minute?" he suggested. Jess giggled.

"You're just afraid of going into a hyperglycemic mania from all that sweetness," she taunted.

"You know it," Dean snorted. "Come on," he tossed his head in the direction of the Impala. "Why don't we start bringing in Max's stuff?" Jess nodded and followed after him.

Inside the entry way, Max was taking in the house. The door swung open, to the left. There was a long hallway, straight through to the back door. The wall on the left hallway was punctuated by several doors. To the right was an archway and Sam drew her that way first.

"The entire house has hardwood floors," he told her as he pulled her into the large living room. "Except the bathroom and the laundry room. There's linoleum in there." Max half frowned and gestured at the sofa that was pulled away from the wall.

"Nouveau decorating scheme?" she teased. Sam grinned and affected a slightly snobbish tone.

"Ah yes, its the new 'the paint is still wet on that wall' decor that's becoming all the rage in new homes," he joked back. He let her look her fill for a moment and then began tugging her towards another archway towards the back of the house. They entered a dining room and Max saw a moderately sized oak table surrounded by four chairs. "The house was advertised as partly furnished," Sam explained. "The sofa, the table and chairs, and a bed."

"It's nice," Max commented, running a finger over the table. She saw the kitchen next and headed that way. On her left, the wall on which there was a stove, counter and refrigerator was shorter than the back wall. Max smiled when she saw the dishwasher under the cabinet next to the sink. "That'll come in handy," she grinned, gesturing to it. Sam nodded.

"There's a garbage disposal as well." He heard a noise at the front door and walked through the kitchen to look back that way. There was no one there, but when he saw the boxes just inside the hallway, hew realized where Dean and Jess had gone to. He tugged on Max's hand and pulled her through the kitchen archway and into the hallway once more. "The laundry room is back here," he pointed out, gesturing to the room behind the kitchen. He moved towards the front door. "There's a coat closet here," he gestured behind the front door. "Not too big, but you don't really need it to be. And this is the smaller bedroom." He opened the first main door off the hallway and led her in. "I thought we could put a desk in here, kind of make it into a study. That way we don't have school books and stuff all over the house."

"That makes sense," Max agreed as she rounded the corner of the short wall that marked the room's entryway. She could see that the room's closet adjoined the one in the hallway. She glanced around the area, noting that there wasn't much room to move. A bed was nestled into the inside corner, it looked to be a double wide. And the floor was covered in boxes. She nudged one with her tow, surprised to find that it still was full.

"So, uh, now you know what I was doing on your birthday," Sam chuckled sheepishly.

"Moving in?" Max grinned. She looked over at the bed. "But why is there a sleeping bag in the living room if the bed came with the house?"

Sam shrugged. "I didn't really feel like sleeping in a bed that's seen who knows how many other people in it. I think we've had our fill of that, don't you?"

"Well certainly," Max agreed. "But what-!"

"Come here," Sam interrupted, grabbing her hand again. "You have to see the tub. It's huge!" He pulled her back into the hallway and the few steps to the next door. Like he had said, the floor was linoleum, in shades of cream. It went well with the shell pink tiling and cream bathtub. And it was huge. "There's some shelves behind the door," Sam informed her. "And a cupboard over here." He gestured across from the door.

"Oh, I love this tub already," Max sighed. As Sam had said, it was large and deep and the end opposite the faucets was slanted, so one could really relax.

"I knew you would. As soon as I saw it, you called me. Remember? My last day of finals?" Max whirled around to stare at him. "And then you heard Donna and I had to cover. And we'd been talking about school and so I said the first thing that popped into my head."

"That she was a professor," Max smiled. "But obviously, she's not."

Sam shook his head. "She'd the property manager for the company that owns the house. Come here." He led her out of the bathroom and towards the kitchen. But they bypassed the last door on that side of the hallway and Sam opened the back door, closing off the shelving units in a small nook. Max caught sight of the utility room to her right which contained an apartment sized washer and dryer, some larger shelves and the water heater and furnace. The couple stepped out onto a patio and stopped. The backyard wasn't huge, though it was fenced in. Trees lined the back of the fence and nestled in one corner was a small shed. A walkway from the patio led around the corner of the house, back towards the front. "Donna said," Sam continued, pointing to the corner where the shed was situated, "that the couple that lived here last had a garden over there. We could do that, or re-seed it. And I thought maybe a grill out here and some patio furniture. What do you think?"

"I think," Max drew in a deep breath, "that so far it's wonderful. But," she looked up earnestly at him, a little worry etched through her forehead, "are we going to be able to afford it?"

Sam grinned. "I wasn't sure either when I first thought about it," he conceded. "But it's actually not much more than the rent on the apartment. The utilities are a little higher, of course. And there'll be upkeep costs too. But I think, between the two of us, we can manage. It might be a little tight for the first few months, 'cause we'll need some more furniture." Max smiled as she thought of the check that John and Dean had given her for her birthday. It was for anything she wanted or needed. Furnishing her new home would be a wonderful use for the money. "And there's something else," Sam added. "Donna told me that there's a continual option to buy or lease to buy on this house. We wouldn't have to decide right away. It's just something to keep in mind... for the future."

Max smiled tremulously at those words. The future. She'd been looking forward for so long to building one with Sam and he was on the exact same wavelength. "So Max, it's up to you. If you don't like the house, we can go back to-!"

"I love it!" she enthused as she pulled him towards her for a kiss. "And I love you!" Another kiss. "And I don't plan on going anywhere else!" A last long kiss. Sam's eyes were twinkling when he pulled back.

"I'm so glad you said that," he enthused. "'cause I would really hate for all the work I've put in here to go to waste." Max frowned, puzzled, as he tugged her back into the house. He stopped at the door to the master bedroom that they'd bypassed before, his hand resting on the doorknob. "I um, hope you like this. I picked out the colors and well, Jess helped with the decorating. But if you don't like it, we can do something else. Paint, change the color scheme, or whatever."

"Well, I can't tell you if I like it or not unless I get to see it," Max reminded him with a grin, pleased to see the nervousness spilling over in him. He really wanted her approval and she was amused that he thought that she wouldn't like something he'd done and obviously worked hard on. Sam nodded and opened the door to let her in. Max's eyes widened as she took in the room. It was large, as she knew it would be, having mentally calculated what space had been left. The walls were decorated with a midnight blue border, shot through with streaks of silver and mauve. It matched the duvet on the bed. "King size?" she teased.

"Of course," Sam grinned wickedly, his eyes dancing again. He shook his head after a moment. "That's what I was waiting on this afternoon. The other furniture arrived yesterday."

Max glanced at the matched dressers and nightstands on either side of the bed, in dark cherry wood. "Oh," she murmured softly.

"They really cut delivery close," Sam groaned. "I got it set up and made, just before you got here."

Max smiled. "So why didn't you put the sleeping bag away if you were getting the bed?"

"'Cause there was no way I was going to sleep in our new bed foe even one night without you," he growled softly, playfully. Max sighed happily. She moved over to the nightstand that housed a lamp and a very familiar silver frame. She picked it up, seeing that he'd replaced the picture of her on her Ninja with another. She felt his arms slide around her waist. "Now you know what inspired me," he whispered huskily in her ear. She leaned back against him, her fingers tracing over the glass. She glanced up over her shoulder at him.

"Maybe a little later I can slip that on and inspire you again," she told him softly. Sam groaned in delight as he brushed his lips over hers.

Her taste, long yearned for, exploded in his mouth as their lips parted and tongues clashed. Everything that existed in memory was made flesh once more and was more overwhelming than he could have imagined.

"Ha!" his brother's never so annoying as it was now, voice interrupted them only slightly. "Told you we'd find them in here,"

"Go away Dean," Sam muttered as his lips skimmed along Max's jawline.

"Sheesh!" Dean complained. "This is the thanks I get for lugging in all of Max's junk? Nobody appreciates me anymore."

"If I gave you a cookie, would you shut up?" Jess' voice asked with amusement.

"Chocolate chip?"

"Double stuffed Oreo's.

"Mmm, chocolaty goodness, creamy center. I could go for one. Or a dozen."

"Here. Have four."

"You carry cookies with you!"

"Never know when you might have a craving."

"Ahh, good stuff."

"Oh my God! I have never-!"

"Mm yeah, I have a very talented tongue."

"I'll say!"

Sam heard their banter as if from a distance, but that last little bit zoomed into his head loud and clear. That his brother was openly seducing on if his best friends... in _his_ bedroom! It was just so ludicrous that he couldn't help laughing. Letting Max loose, he turned and regarded his brother. "Jerk!" he enunciated loudly and clearly.

"Bitch!" Dean responded automatically, his eyes twinkling as he continued to scrape the creme filling from the cookie with his teeth.

"Don't even ask," Max waved her hand at Jess' puzzled look. The blond woman glanced down to see Dean's hand in front of her, palm up. Sighing, she dug into her jean pocket and slapped some money into it. It disappeared into Dean's coat as Jess repeated to Max,

"Don't even ask."

"I really don't have to, knowing Dean like I do."

"So, you gonna show me around Sammy?"

"The house isn't that big Dean," Sam snorted.

"Well at least show me where you want Max's stuff." Sam sighed and followed after his brother. With a lingering glanced after her boyfriend, Max looked around the bedroom again.

"This is gorgeous," she declared happily and moved to set the picture on the nightstand. "Sam said you helped with the decorating. Thank you."

"It was no problem," Jess waved her hand in the air as she moved closer. "Is that the picture you sent to- oh!" She caught sight of the picture and Max blushed slightly as Jess giggled. "Well, now his insistence about the colors make sense. You look amazing!"

"Thanks," Max giggled as well. "They turned out much better than I thought they would. I don't know where Sam put the other pictures thought."

"They're safely packed away," Sam informed her, re-entering the bedroom with her two duffel bags full of clothing. He set them down in front of the larger of the dressers, with the vanity mirror attached. "There was no way I was letting the guys see those," he declared. "But I thought maybe we could hang some of them out in the living room."

"That'd be fine,' Max agreed and then frowned. "Now wait," she muttered, "if you moved in here on the first and Jess was at the apartment today..." she trailed off, waiting for an explanation.

"Oh," Jess grinned. "Well, the thing about the fumigator's was just a cover," she began.

"Actually my idea," Dean interrupted. "I figured it sounded a little more serious than the real trouble. I'm putting these in the bathroom," he held up several bags and Max nodded, turning back to Jess.

"It's true that my roommate and I haven't been getting along. When I got home after Christmas, I found that she'd moved her boyfriend in. Without my consent."

"So you actually did have a bug problem?" Max shrugged.

"Worse than you'd believe. The guy's a creep. I mean, I could have stuck it out. But anyway, I was so pissed off, I went over to Sam's to vent."

"And instead of sending her home, I offered her the couch," Sam added.

"Actually he offered to take the couch,' Jess clarified. "But I wouldn't let him. I mean, I really doubted that you would ever want to hear that another woman was in his bed, for _any_ reason."

"You know me so well," Max chuckled.

"Anyway," Jess continued, "he offered me the apartment, if you liked the house. So? Am I moving?"

"With my blessing, my gratitude and help if you want it," Max grinned and reached over to hug the blond. Jess sighed with relief and hugged her back while the males looked on fondly.

"So," Sam clapped his hands together once. "I'll call Abe tomorrow about putting you on the lease. And then at the end of the month, he'll take my name off and the apartment will be yours."

"And I'll get you your security deposit as soon as I can," Jess nodded but Sam shrugged.

"There's no rush," he told her.

"Hey," Jess protested gently, "I know you guys have uses for that money."

"No," Max shook her head. "Don't worry about it." She thought again of the check for her birthday. "We'll be fine."

"Go with her on this," Dean warned teasingly. "She's more stubborn than anything on this earth." Max nodded.

"Okay," Jess sighed. "Well, I should take off. Got my own arrangements to make."

"Call us if you want us there when you go back to your old place," Sam directed. "We can act as a buffer or make sure that Shannon doesn't pull anything."

"That'd be good," Jess looked relieved. "So I'll call tomorrow or the day after?" Sam nodded. She turned to Max. "I'm so happy to have finally met you."

"Me too," Max agreed. "It's nice to put some faces to the names and voices." They hugged once more and Jess departed. Dean shrugged his jacket higher onto his shoulders and then let it settle again.

"Well," he smiled a half grin. "I think that's my cue to leave too," he decided.

"Are you going to head out right away?" Max asked.

"Nah," Dean mused with a quick shake of his head. "I think I'll head back to the motel and get some sleep. Four hours just wasn't enough. And we'll have to get your bike over here."

"We can come over later and get it," Sam nodded.

"Okay, so... this is goodbye," Dean grinned, though it was tinged with sadness.

"For now," Max amended, grinning through her teariness.

"For now," Dean chuckled. He reached out and pulled her into a tight hug. "You be happy now," he murmured into her ear.

"You know I will," she answered promptly and quietly. He let her loose and turned to his brother.

"Sammy, you did good," he commended.

"Yeah, well, now you won't have to be such a stranger," Sam noted. "We don;t have that spare bed for nothing."

"I'll remember that," Dean jerked his chin up. He stuck his hand out and Sam took it.

"Thanks... for everything Dean."

"Hey, that's what big brothers are for, right? Come here kid," he yanked his brother to him, giving him a macho, one-armed hug that ended with much slapping of each other on the back. Once they released each other, Dean cleared his throat, stuffed his hands in his jacket and said, "don't worry. I'll let myself out." He smiled at them once more and slipped out of the bedroom door. But once he'd pulled the front door securely shut behind himself, his hand remained on the doorknob for a moment. He glanced up, memorizing the two inch high plastic numbers screwed to the house above the black metal mailbox. For such a little house, it had great potential. He took a deep breath and turned to step off the porch when he caught sight of Jess leaning back against the Impala. He grinned and started down the walkway. "Hey."

"My purse is still in the car," she explained, gesturing to the backseat. "I was almost to the end of the block before I remembered."

"Oh right," Dean pulled out his keys and unlocked the passenger side door. "Hop in, I'll give you a ride home."

"That's okay," Jess smiled. "After that huge lunch, the walk will do me good."

"You know," Dean drawled, "I know a lot more fun ways to burn calories."

"I'll just bet you do," Jess sighed, eying this bad boy with more than a little caution.

Back inside the house, Max and Sam listened as Dean's footsteps receded and heard the click of the front door shutting. Sam reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind Max's ear. "Sad?" asked softly. "Happy?"

"Both," she murmured, laying her cheek into his palm for a moment before gazing up and assuring him, "but more happy than sad."

"Me too," he confirmed. He pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her once more. He couldn't get enough of holding her, the knowledge flowing through him that finally he could reach out for her whenever he wanted or needed her and she would be there. His lips sought hers and she complied willingly, passion flaring between them with a startling intensity. He knew she was just as eager as he was as she nimbly coaxed the buttons free of their holes on his shirt. Sam pulled the shirt she wore tucked in, from her jeans and rubbed his fingers over the silky skin of her stomach. She moaned lowly at his touch and just as their first time together, that masculine pride in causing this reaction in her, rose up in his chest. Her fingers skimmed lightly over his chest, up to his shoulders as she pushed his shirt back and off. He let the fabric drop from his body and then returned his hands to her waist, catching the hem of her shirt and pulling it upwards. She lifted her arms like an obedient child as Sam pulled his mouth away from hers to pull the material over her head as his own mind raced ahead at all the things he had dreamed of doing to her, with her when they were finally together. It would be dreams only no more and his lips curved upwards as a sexy little mewl from his girl focused his attention once more.

Max murmured something under her breath and Sam glanced up at her, smiled. He wasn't really surprised to see her eyelids drooping after their heated and thoroughly satisfying joining. She returned his smile sleepily.

"I love you," he murmured, stroking one hand over her hair and she echoed the sentiment back. Slowly looking up, she glanced out the window.

"Mm. We should probably shower and decide what we want to do for dinner tonight," she told him quietly.

"That's fine," Sam agreed. "But that can wait for now. Dean told me that you drove straight through to get here. So a nap wouldn't do any harm." He waited for an answer, but she was already asleep. With an amused grin, Sam pulled the covers down on the side of the bed that she preferred. It was no trouble to pick her up and slide her over. He tucked her in, crawled over top of her and got beneath the covers, spooning against her back. The bed was perfect, affording him room to stretched out and in moments, his body molded to Max's, Sam fell back sound asleep as well.

The cell phone's insistant chirp woke him up. Groggily lifting his head, he glanced around before remembering that it lay in the pile of clothes at the foot of the bed. He crawled that way, reached down and pulled out the phone, which vibrated again. He swung his legs over the bed and, smiling, tickled at the toes that peeked out from under the covers. He heard her come awake with a startled gasp as he flipped the phone open.

"Hey Dad."

"Hey Dean," John greeted. "Everything go okay?"

"Mm, a few minor problems, but everything's good now. I'll explain it all when I see you."

"But Max is settled in? I tried calling her a couple times...?"

"Yeah," Dean snorted in amusement. "She and Sammy are probably christening all the rooms of their new house."

"What?" John growled, obviously confused by the house comment.

"Yup," Dean sighed. "That was Max's big surprise. They're renting a house." He tickled at the toes again, grinning in delight as they disappeared back under the blanket. He felt her foot nudge him playfully.

"I don't know," John sighed. "A house is a huge responsibility, even just renting. Is he sure they can afford it?"

"You know Sammy Dad," Dean pointed out. "If he wasn't sure before goin' into a deal like that, he just wouldn't do it."

"You're right," John agreed finally. "So is everything settled then? I could use some back up on this."

"Is Caleb okay?" Dean asked with concern.

"Damn fool broke his leg," John growled with frustration.

"Okay," Dean nodded slowly. "Still need to get Max's bike to the house. It's still parked out here at the motel."

"Okay," John chuckled. "She'd kill you if anything happened to that bike."

"I know," Dean shook his head. "I can head out as soon as that's taken care of."

"Sounds good," John concurred. "call me later." The phone disconnected before Dean could say goodbye, but he was used to that with his father. He tossed the phone back to the pile of clothes.

"Leaving soon?" his bed partner asked softly.

"Not for a while," he muttered as he crawled up the bed, over her body. He paused at her hip, where the blanket had slipped off. He nuzzled the curve of her body, his lips skimming over the tattoo he'd found there earlier and as she had before, she blushed. Giving her skin another light kiss, he winked lazily up at her and beamed when she shifted and held her arms out to him. One last little poke at the tiny tattoo. "Man! I love the Smurfs!" he crowed as he joined her once more. There was no way in hell he'd be leaving right now.


	18. A Viper In The Mist

Title: What If... Racing Towards Destiny

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Rating: PG-13- MA

Genre: Crossover

Type: Romance

Pairing: Max Gueverra/ Sam Winchester

Summary: What if... Max had been having a different dream?

Spoilers/ Timeline: This starts when Max is thirteen and going into heat for the very first time.

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first please.

A/N: This story, while being in the same universe as _When It Changes_, does not actually occur within that storyline. This fiction is just an off-shoot of what **might **have happened.

**Chapter Eighteen**

**A Viper In The Mist**

"Jess?" Max asked as soon as the other woman picked up.

"Hey Max," Jess greeted cheerfully. "What's up?"

"It's horrible!" Max launched immediately into a rant. "It's terrible. Everything's a mess and I don't know what to do!"

"Do about what?" Jess wondered. "And where's Sam?"

"He left!" Max snorted derisively. "He said we didn't have enough cheese and he left."

"Okay," Jess took a deep breath, rather surprised. Max just didn't seem like the kind of girl given to panic attacks, especially as Hess had gotten to know her, and not just what Sam had related about her. "Why don't you tell me specifically, what the problem is," she suggested.

"I... I don't know what to wear," Max admitted in a tiny voice. Jess smiled, relieved. No, it wasn't a disaster, but she knew perfectly Max's dilemma.

"I'll be right over," she announced and heard Max's sigh of relief as they hung up. She took a few minutes to grab the housewarming gift that she'd gotten for the couple and was on her way.

Jess knocked on their door and entered when Max called her in. She followed the sounds of Max's voice to the bedroom. But instead of a mass of clothes everywhere, like she had expected, there were only two drawers open with one shirt laid out. Max stood at the closet, randomly pulling out clothes to peruse. "Hey," Jess greeted. "Let me put this down somewhere," she gestured with the gift she was carrying, "and then I'll be back to help."

"Oh Jess," Max smiled as she caught sight of what Jess was referring to. "You didn't have to."

"I know," Jess grinned impishly. "I did it 'cause I wanted to. It's traditional for a housewarming."

"Well thank you then," Max tilted her head to the side. "I suppose I better wait for Sam to get back then, before I open it."

"Ha!" Jess' voice floated back to her from the kitchen. "I say let the coward hang. There's plenty of cheese."

"That's what I said," Max groaned. Jess returned and stood by Max at the closet.

"So what have you decided on, if anything?" she asked, fingering the bright red blouse that Max had pulled out.

"I haven't decided anything," Max snorted. "I mean, its friends. Do I go casual? But my 'casual' is sloppy. I'm hosting the party, so do I go classy and elegant and make everyone think I'm a snob? It's just... argh!"

Jess hid a smiled. She knew what Max's problem was, having experienced it herself a time or two before. She asked carefully, "what's Sam going to wear?"

"Jeans and a button down shirt," Max snorted derisively. Men had it so easy. "I miss the good old days," she sighed.

"How so?" Jess grinned.

"The days when all I needed were a hot shower, clean undies and I was good to go. Now though... uh!"

"Well," Jess murmured thoughtfully, "since you're hosting a party for your friends, why don't you split the difference and go classy casual?"

Max chewed on her lip for a moment, mulling over the possibilities and then finally reached back into the closet. She withdrew a pair of dark brown slacks and handed the hanger to Jess. She moved over to the dresser and nudged one drawer shut with her knee, while reaching into the other and withdrawing a cream colored, knit sweater. Holding that, she shoved the other shirt that had been hanging out back into the drawer and closed it. Holding onto the sweater, she opened a top drawer on the left. She pulled out slinky number and pushed the drawer shut with her hip and motioned Jess over to the bed. Jess obligingly pulled the slacks from the hanger and laid them out on the bed while Max fiddled with the sweater. They heard the front door open and Sam calling out that he was finally back.

He stuck his head into the bedroom and the girls could see a very full grocery bag in his arms. "Hey Jess," he greeted with a relieved smile.

"Hey," Jess grinned back. "You must really like your cheese," she chuckled. Sam ducked his head for a moment, totally aware that both women were completely onto him.

"I did get a little more," he defended himself. "And I got some ginger ale for Trish, if she doesn't want wine."

"Who's Trish?" Jess asked.

"Next door neighbor, that way," Max explained, pointing over her head to the outer bedroom wall.

"I'm gonna go put this stuff away," Sam informed them.

"Okay," Max nodded in acknowledgment. "I'll be out in a minutes, sweetie." Sam pulled the door shut and headed to the kitchen.

"Smart move, inviting the neighbors," Jess commented and Max smiled.

"Actually, they're the only ones coming. I invited the Brouwer's on the other side and the Herman's from across the street. They didn't' want to intrude and so the Herman's are having a block party on Sunday so we can meet everybody else."

"Oh, that's nice of them," Jess nodded. "That's perfect Max," she added with a sigh at the ensemble Max had put together. Max nodded as well and bent over to start toweling her hair completely dry.

"So anyways, I was kind of expecting the same answer from the Miles'. But I went over anyway. Dennis was having trouble with his car. So I helped him with it and found out in the five minutes that it took to fix, that Dennis and his wife Trish moved in last year. Trish found out she was pregnant the day after they finished moving in. Trish had Natasha, though they call her Tasha, last November. They're glad not to be the new people anymore. Trish has been pretty housebound since Tasha was born and she's extremely frazzled and worn out. Especially since both sets of grandparents descended on them for the holidays and Trish was just getting over the flu at the time."

"All that?" Jess goggled. "I get the impression that Dennis doesn't get out much," she joked.

"Aside from going to work and errands? I don't think so either," Max agreed. "Anyway, I suggested to Dennis that our party would be great for Trish. They're bringing Tasha with them. She's such a cutie and if it gets to be too much for her, Dennis'll take her home so that Trish can relax and enjoy herself."

"That sounds really good," Jess muttered. "Babies are excellent. Except for one thing. All the guys will avoid her like the plague."

"Not all of them," Max chuckled. "We had coffee over there yesterday, and Tasha went nuts when Sam held her. I think it might be something about being so high up. Dennis is only like, five ten, five eleven?"

"Oh," Jess sighed. "That must have been so cute. Sam with a baby. Ah!"

"I think the towel's inhibiting my sarcasm detector, but it actually was cute," Max laughed. She straightened up and used the towel to rub at the ends of her hair. "Actually, we've run into a couple of the kids on this block. There aren't too many yet, Trish said. But Sam was great with them. Really patient with all of their questions."

"He'll make a good dad."

"I think he will too. When we're ready, of course."

"Of course," Jess nodded and then straightened up herself. "Well, I'll let you get changed. See if Sam needs my help with anything."

"Okay," Max nodded as Jess slipped out the door. She found Sam in the kitchen, pouring chips into a large plastic bowl.

"Everything figured out," he asked as she stepped over to wash her hands at the sink.

"All under control," Jess assured him.

"Now," Sam chuckled, "I know I'm just a guy and don't understand, but I don't see what the big deal is. Max looks gorgeous in anything she wears."

"You ought to teach a seminar," Jess giggled as she dried her hands.

"What?"

"Teach guys how to make statements like that so their girlfriends, wives, etcetera, don't take offense so much."

"But it's true," Sam shook his head. "And I don't get why she was so upset."

"Well," Jess tried to explain as she refolded the towel to hang back on the rack. "Max is trying to set the right tone with all of your friends tonight."

"What do you mean? She's met everyone and they all love her."

"On a one to one basis, yes," Jess agreed. "But it's different with group situations. Everybody's going to be watching her."

"Why?" Sam grunted.

"To see how well matched she is with you and to figure out how she's going to fit in with the rest of us. Don't worry," she hastened to assure him, "it's nothing bad. Guys just have a different way of figuring out their pecking order."

Sam blinked a few times. "And here I was, thinking we were just having some friends over for a party."

"Try repeating your earlier statement a few more times," Jess teased. Sam shook his head and turned his attention back to setting out food. He was just a guy and didn't understand. He was just a guy...

"You look beautiful," he sighed as Max stepped into the well lit kitchen. She beamed up at him.

"Thank you," she replied calmly, not hint of her earlier upset present. "You look pretty good yourself." She tugged gently at the front of his shirt and he bent his head to meet her for a short kiss. Jess took a moment to admire them. Sam looked like he always did, in his slightly faded jeans and blue chambray shirt. But the smile that had always been on his face when he talked of Max was about ten times the brilliance it had been before she had arrived. He seemed to be lit from within whenever she was around. And Max... Jess just couldn't find a flaw in her physical beauty. She was sure that Max's overall package might not run to every single males taste, but no one could deny that she was gorgeous. And she had a personality that matched the outside. Witty, sassy, helpful and loyal. Jess just couldn't help the friendly type of jealousy that rose within her.

"So what else needs to be done?" she asked, calling the couple's attention back to her.

There wasn't much left to be done and pretty soon, their guests began arriving. Some, like Jessica, had brought gifts. Others, more bottles of wine to celebrate. Everyone commented on how nicely the house had 'come together' with a 'woman's touch'. Max was quick to point out that Sam had a great eye for furniture and good deals, which earned him more ribbing from his closer male friends. But it was all in good fun. It all evened out when Max announced that it was a good thing Sam was that way, because it enabled her to save enough of her birthday money, that she was able to enroll in two classes for the coming spring semester.

Talk turned to upcoming courses and twenty minutes later, perhaps, give or take some time, the doorbell rang again. Sam answered and enthusiastically invited in the Miles family. He took their coats and led them back to the master bedroom so that Dennis could set up the portable bassinet that they had brought with them. Baby Tasha, who seemed apprehensive at the noise and multitude of people, gurgled happily when Sam held out his arms to take her. He led the couple back to the living room and announced to everyone, "hey guys! These are some of our neighbors, Trish and Dennis. And this little sweetie is Tasha, who looks like she's all ready for bed. But that can't be so. The party is just starting, right?" There were a chorus of agreements and greetings to the couple.

Max nudged Jess and they watched the baby kicking and cooing at Sam as she happily enjoyed looking around from her vantage point at his shoulder. He held her securely against him as he bent his head to speak to Trish who was shorter than Max was. She replied to whatever he'd asked and Sam nodded and chuckled. "Here we go Tash. Let's go get your mom some ginger ale." He moved through the slight crowd as the baby tried to grab at his slightly shaggy hair.

"Oh man," Jess sighed. "You're right. That is absolutely adorable." The pair continued to watch Sam as he ignored teasing about the new mystery girl in his life. Max excused herself from Jess and went to greet Trish, who had sunk down into the corner of the new sofa.

"Hey," she seated herself just as Alli approached from the hallway. "I'm so glad you guys came."

"I'm glad too," Trish sighed happily as she dropped a diaper bag next to her feet. "It's tough to go out. Tasha's refusing still to take a bottle."

"Have you tried having someone else give it to her?" Max asked earnestly.

"Dennis' mother tried, but Tasha was worn out and cranky," Trish sighed.

"Maybe Dennis could try while you're busy in another room," Max replied thoughtfully. In truth, she'd never given thought to the difficulties in raising recalcitrant children. At least as it didn't apply to her. Trish nodded and then Max gestured to Alli. "Trish, this is a friend of ours, Allison Michaels," Max began to introduce them.

"Yes," Alli grinned, interrupting before Max could complete the polite amenity. "We've actually met before," she prompted. Trish stared at her for a moment and then laughed as recognition dawned.

"From the diner! Right."

"Trish used to come in every Thursday for Joe's clam chowder," Alli explained to Max.

"I couldn't get enough of the stuff when I was pregnant," Trish laughed.

"You know, I'd always wondered if you had had a boy or a girl," Alli chuckled. "Now I know. How old is she?"

"She'll be two months next week," Trish informed her. Max stood up as Sam returned with a small bottle of chilled beverage. She gestured for Alli to sit in her place.

"I can't believe she holds her head up so well,": Alli commented as she sat.

"She has for a while now," Trish commented as she accepted the ginger ale. "She's now trying to work on rolling over." Max grinned as the two women continued to talk baby. Sam returned Tasha to her mother, who in turn passed her to a delighted Alli. Sam and Max moved out of the way as a few more ladies carried dining room chairs over to join in the conversation.

"Go get the camera," Max whispered to Sam, who nodded. It was a fun sight, all these women gathered around Tasha, who was oblivious to them as she played with a toy dangling from her mother's fingers. Sam tugged on her hand and Max let him lead her into the kitchen. They passed Chuck and Dennis, who were talking animatedly about football. Max felt relieved that their neighbors were fitting in easily.

"We're running low on chips," Sam informed her, his obvious excuse for bringing her with him. But as she started to reach into the cupboard to grab more, she found herself trapped by his familiar, lean body. She giggled and turned in his arms. Their lingering kiss was broken as Dale pounce on them.

"Haven't you two had enough yet?" he called. "She's been here almost a week now!"

"Never!" Sam replied gruffly, smiling down at her. Max kissed his cheek and turned back to retrieve the chips. Sam grinned and turned to retrieve the digital camera from the other counter. He held it up. "What d'ya say Dale?"

"Screw you!"

But the other man grinned as Sam took his picture. Then they moved together to find more subjects. Max took a moment to fill up several empty platters. Then she took one of said platters, a bowl of chips and one of the fuller bottles of wine and carried it through to the living room. She set everything on the coffee table near the women gathered about Trish and Tasha. "Here you go ladies. Oh, excuse me," she murmured as the doorbell rang again. She glanced back at the rest of the crowd and frowned. Everyone that they were expecting were already here. But then Max brightened. Perhaps some of the other neighbors had decided to drop in after all. But she was surprised when she opened the front door to find a slim and elegantly done up brunette. "Hello?" she greeted.

"Bonjour," the visitor's voice was low and cultured and Max had instant suspicions about who this woman was. "You must be Max," the woman continued. Max nodded and stepped back to let the other woman in.

"And you must be Monique. Come in please."

The woman's face registered her surprise as she stepped into the house. She was holding a gaily wrapped box with a card on top. "I see you've heard about me?" she asked archly.

"A little bit," Max smiled as she took Monique's coat. "But I try not to judge people before I've met them."

"That's very kind of you," Monique seemed quite relieved.

"Well what can I say," Max chuckled as she led Monique to the bedroom to put the coat with the others on the bed. "I really can't blame you for liking Sam. He's one in a million."

"Mm, I can see that you are very secure about your position in Sam's life," Monique smiled. "And here I thought I would have to work hard to convince you that I meant no harm." Max simply smiled. "I came here tonight to, well, to tell you that and to give you this." She offered the gift to Max, but before Max could take it, the card on top, not secure, slipped to the floor. Max bent over and scooped it up. Her eyes flickered over the simple statement of welcome and back up to Monique's face. The woman's eyes were sparkling. Her smile didn't seem as brittle and Max had the strangest sensation that the woman had gotten some sort of perverse enjoyment out of what had just occurred. "My grandmama always said that every lady should have at least one piece of this in their home." She offered the box again and Max took it. The wrapping paper came off easily. Max was surprised to find a crystal bowl with a pinwheel design to it. She'd seen these before and knew that they could be expensive.

"This is lovely. Thank you Monique."

The woman shook her head delicately. "I'm so very glad you like it. I saw a rose pattern that was lovely, but not every woman likes roses."

"True," Max smiled politely. "I actually prefer snapdragons. But this is the company's classic design, isn't it?" Monique nodded. "So, would you care for a glass of wine?"

"Uh oh," Chuck murmured in a heavy voice from beside Sam. "Possible cat fight at ten o'clock." Sam glanced in the direction that Chuck was looking and swore softly under his breath. Max was leading Monique Fournier through the hallway. "Does she know who that is?"

"Doubt it," Sam replied tersely to his friends worried question. "This is the first I've seen of her since last semester. Excuse me." He made it into the kitchen just in time to see the women disappear into the bedroom.

"Let Max handle it," Jess warned softly, coming up right behind him, as she had also seen the new arrival. Sam grunted and fiddled with a package on the counter. It was hard to wait, especially as he wasn't sure as to what was going on. But he managed to hold himself back. The pair reappeared after a few minutes and Max smiled broadly as she approached Sam, carrying a bowl.

"Hey Sam," she greeted. "Look what Monique gave me." His eyes flickered down to the glass bowl and then back up.

"It's nice," he offered tersely. "Hello Monique."

"Bonjour Sammy, Jessica."

Max suppressed an urge to laugh as a small vein in Sam's jaw pulsed visibly. It was no wonder he didn't like the woman if she persisted in calling him by the nickname he hated. She placed the bowl on the table with the other gifts that had been given to them that evening and turned to pour Monique some wine. Ignoring the tension pervading the room, she asked Monique if she had her courses in place for the upcoming semester. The other woman proclaimed that she had, but was thinking already of dropping one. She'd had a course with that particular professor before and didn't like his style of teaching. Sam watched in amazement as Max effortlessly managed the subtle hostility of his friends against Monique. She openly addressed Monique's previous infatuation with Sam. Monique simply agreed with her, commented that she hoped she would one day find such a wonderful man and wisely left it at that. Surprisingly, she didn't try and dominate the conversation as she usually did. She simply listened and occasionally offered witty comments. When Max felt that the hostility had eased enough, she made the rounds again, ensuring that everyone had enough drinks and snacks.

It was noticed that baby Tasha was getting cranky and Max offered the sanctity of their bedroom so that Trish could get her settled. Aside from those little hiccups, everything went well. Sam watched his girlfriend constantly, smiling as she spoke to everyone that she could. Every time she passed by him, she'd squeeze his hand or tickle his ribs and always gave him a reassuring smile. When she joined the conversation he was holding with Mark, he wrapped an arm comfortably around her shoulder, enjoying how she leaned into him.

Things eventually began to wind down. Dennis had already taken the baby home and Trish was about ready to go as well. Sam went to retrieve her coat from the bedroom, but noticed that the back door was ajar, letting in a cool breeze. Puzzled, Sam moved to shut the door, but heard a hushed feminine voice speaking through the cool night air. He was amused until he realized that the woman was speaking rapidly in French. Sam couldn't make heads nor tails of Monique's conversation though.

"... oui. C'est comment j'ai confirmé qu'il était elle. Non, elle n'a pas remarqué. Avez-vous décidé que ma couverture sera pour la Phase Deux ?She chuckled. "Elle ne l'aimera pas. Je doute qu'elle soit disposée à me parler après cela. Mm-hm. D'accord. Le mois suivant, alors ?" Her voice softened quite a bit. "Envoyez mon amour à ma tante s'il vous plaît. Je m'inquiète d'elle. Oui. Au revoir."

Sam was extremely surprised to hear her sniffle and as much as he didn't like the woman, like most men, he didn't like to see a woman cry. He stepped outside. "Monique?" he asked softly and he could see her outline in the shadows give a visible start.

"Oh Sam," she exclaimed lowly. "I didn't see you there. I'm sorry, I had to take a call."

"Yes, I heard," Sam acknowledged. "Is everything okay?"

"I didn't know you spoke French!" she sounded surprised and guarded.

"I don't," he half-smiled. "But you seemed upset."

"Ah," she sighed. "It is my aunt, the one I visited over my vacation. We're very close and... she is not doing well."

"I'm sorry," Sam offered and Monique nodded as she stepped out of the shadows created by the back wall.

"She insisted that I come back to school. But that was her friend, calling to let me know that she is not getting better. I may be returning to her side sooner than we expected."

"Well," Sam shrugged, "all you can do is hope for the best and prepare for everything else."

"Exactement," Monique murmured and then seemed to steel herself. "I think I will take my leave. I do not think I would be very good company right now."

"All right," Sam agreed softly, pushing open the back door. "I'll get your coat."

"Thank you," Monique smiled. "And please, pass my thanks to Max. For her graciousness to me. She is a very... classy lady."

"That she is," Sam agreed whole-heartedly as he moved back inside. He met Max and Trish at the bedroom door.

"I'd wondered where you got to," Max teased.

"Monique's leaving," Sam informed her quietly. "I'll tell you about it later." Max visibly sobered as Sam retrieved the other woman's coat. He turned back to her and caught her chin with one finger, turning her face up to brush a reassuring kiss over her lips and with a small wink, left the room. Like the gentleman he'd been raised to be, he carried the coat out to Monique. She swung the material over her shoulders, asking at the same time if the path she was on led to the front of the house. Sam told her that it did and whee the latch on the gate at the side of the house was. Monique thanked him again and took her leave. Sam went back inside, vaguely unsettled by the last few minutes, but put it aside as he offered to carry home the bassinet that Dennis and Trish had brought with the,. When he returned from next door, Monique's car was gone. Reentering his home, he found that everyone had taken seats in the living room. Alli scooted over on the couch to make room so that he could sit next to Max. As before, once he'd put his arm around her, she leaned into him and sighed. Sam felt the tension in his body, that had appeared with Monique's arrival, simply fade away at her touch.

Happy birthday Dean!" Max exclaimed into her phone.

"Thanks Maxie," Dean chuckled. "You called at just the right time. Dad _finally_ gave me your gifts. I was just about to open them."

"Well go ahead," she laughed and then lowered the phone to tell Sam that they were in time. They'd just gotten out of the art history course that they were taking together.

"A Kenworth shirt?" Dean asked, bemused.

"Check out their motto," Max instructed him.

"'The World's Best'," he read and then laughed. "You know it baby!"

"Yeah, we thought you'd like that." There was more rustling of paper.

"More socks, excellent."

"I got the ones with the reinforced heels and toes," she commented. "Maybe you won't wear them out so fast."

"Doubtful," Dean chuckled. "Remember Maxie, I'm a workin' man."

"All right redneck," she teased. "Now open the last one," she demanded, not caring that both Sam and Dean were laughing at her impatience. She heard the paper rustle and Dean's hastily sucked in breath. He seemed... speechless. Max gave Sam a wide grin and a thumbs up.

"Oh my God! Max, this is awesome! Where did you find this?" Dean whispered.

"Little record store in Los Angeles," she informed him.

"This is... oh wow! I can't believe you found this."

"Well, I'm glad you like it," Max chuckled. "But you should thank Sam too. He did help pay for that stuff, you know."

"Yeah," Dean still seemed a little breathless. "Put him on." Max passed her cell phone to Sam, who smiled and added his birthday greetings.

"Yeah," Sam smiled at whatever Dean had said. "They did turn out pretty good." He listened for a moment and then his face darkened. "No! I'm not hiding anything from you. She's-!" Sam rolled his eyes. "No, I'm not saying that because she's standing right here. Max knows-!" Sam huffed, exasperated. "Dean? Did you look at all of the pictures I took?" He waited. "Yeah, I suppose. I don't really think of her that way." Max could see him counting to ten silently, striving for patience. "I'm not just saying that!" Sam looked even more cross and Max grabbed his free hand to lace her fingers with his. He smiled down momentarily at her, but then frowned again. "Dean, it was her idea to... oh! You are such a jerk!" He laughed finally and relaxed. "Oh for... why does everyone keep asking that. Uh uh, it's none of your business." He squeezed Max's hand reflexively. "You know what? If you really want to know, then ask Max." Sam thrust the phone back at her, shaking his head.

"Ask me what?" Max asked cheerfully after taking the phone back.

"You know what, never mind," Dean chuckled. "Sam's right, none of my business."

"Okay," Max drawled. "So how many things did you manage to tease him about in that last conversation?"

"Oh several," Dean mused. "Mostly those pictures he sent."

Max figured she knew what their brother had been teasing about, since she'd made sure that Sam had sent along the picture of him playing airplane with the baby. "So how's your day been?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Pretty good," Dean enthused. "Dad and I went to a shooting range, got some Chinese take-out, watched re-runs. The usual. How's your day been?"

"It got better," Max demurred. "I had to work this morning while Sam was in class. Made it just in time for art."

"You were working?" Dean asked, surprised. "What'd you land?"

"The convenience store," Max informed him. "Not the greatest, but it's a paycheck."

"So what other course did you get? I forgot."

"Do you mean the women's lit. or the jewelry making course?" Max tried to clarify.

"Stanford offers jewelry courses?" Dean asked doubtfully.

"No," Max chuckled. "That's through the community center. Jess, Alli, Diane and Trish and I all signed up for it. Which reminds me, I need to go to the mall tomorrow and pick up my supplies."

"Well, it sounds interesting at least," Dean approved. "Oh, I was gonna ask," Max waited expectantly, as perhaps this was the question from earlier. "Who was the smokin' brunette at your party?" Max frowned. Which brunette was he talking about? When she didn't answer immediately, he prompted, "the one in the little black skirt?"

"Oh!" Max gasped. "You mean Monique."

"Wait? Monique? As in the bitch that was causin' Sammy so much trouble?"

"The same," Max confirmed.

"You invited her to your party?"

"No."

"She crashed it?" Dean's voice rose in disbelief. "Man, she's got a lot of nerve. Why'd you let her stay?"

"Well, you know what they say Dean," Max chuckled maliciously even as Sam snorted inelegantly and shook his head, easily able to follow the conversation just from her side alone. "Keep your friends close and your enemies even closer."

"A-ah," Dean chuckled. "Maxie's got a plan."

"Well, unfortunately, the state of California tends to frown on murder and since she's just not worth going to jail over, I seized the opportunity to improvise and redeploy."

"Uh huh."

Max giggled as Sam shook his head again at the pair of them. Max and Dean continued to talk about the recent events in their lives, with occasional remarks thrown in on both ends from Sam and John, until it was finally time to say goodnight.

Sam was happy to get home, until he remembered at the door, that Max was probably still shopping with Jess. His afternoon class had been canceled and his first thought was of going home to her and their spending some quality time together. That time had decreased a little since she had started working. He knew that she and Jess had planned to meet for lunch and then head to the mall to pick up some raw materials for the course they were taking together. Sighing, Sam headed into the study to stow his backpack and maybe do a little work. Who knew how long the two of them would be shopping.

But when he heard the front door slam shut, he glanced at his watch and realized that he'd only been home for twenty minutes or so. He stood up from the desk and exited the study, just as the bathroom door latched shut. His eyes nearly crossed as he caught a whiff of a stench lingering in the hall. Holding his breath, he moved to knock on the bathroom door and called out Max's name.

"Sam?" she called back. "I thought you were in class."

"It got canceled," he called back. "Can I come in?"

"You might not want to." He could hear the shower start up.

"Is it bad?"

"Disgusting!"

"I'll take my chances," he chuckled. But the moment he opened the door, he wished that he'd heeded her warning. He could feel his stomach churning as the need to vomit whispered through his stomach. "Oh God," he groaned, breathing as shallowly as he could. "What kind of super-powered skunk did you run into?"

"Just a bitch of a one, named Monique," Max growled from inside the tub. Sam's eyes widened and he frowned.

"Anything I can do?"

"Yeah," Max snorted. "Take my clothes out back and burn them!" Sam smiled and began to gather them up.

"I'll try washing them first," he told her as he exited the bathroom. He hurried through the house, with the clothing held before him. He threw them into the washer and added a generous dosing of detergent. He wondered if that would do the trick. He waited for the washer to fill with water and then shut it off. It wouldn't hurt to let them soak for a while. And if that didn't work, he'd read somewhere that tomato juice worked on removing skunk pheromones from dogs. He didn't think tomato juice would work on Max's clothes, they'd probably stain. But maybe they could think up a suitable alternate. As he returned to the hall, he decided to throw open some windows. He opened both doors and lifted the windows on the screen doors, hoping that a breeze would push through the house and clear the scent out. He didn't think air freshener would help, if anything, it might make it worse. Finally Max emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in her robe with a towel around her hair.

"Careful," she warned. "I can still smell that gunk. Although that might be because it went up my nose." Sam grimaced in sympathy. That really couldn't be anywhere near pleasant. Max bent over to remove the towel from her hair. She dried it just a little more, to make sure she wasn't dripping everywhere and then held a strand up to her nose. She stuck her tongue out and then bit her lower lip. "I can't really tell," she whimpered. Sam gingerly sniffed at the proffered strand and then relaxed.

"I can still smell it a little. But I'm not sure if it's you or if its lingering in the house."

"Mm, I opened the window in the bathroom," Max told him. "But I think I'll have to scour the floor and the tub and maybe the walls."

"Tomato juice," Sam grinned. "It's supposed to work wonders on skunk spray."

"Yeah, the acidic property of it," Max agreed. "Although white vinegar would probably be better. No chance of staining."

Sam snapped his fingers. "I should probably put some in the rinse cycle."

"That'd probably be a good idea," Max sighed.

"So you said Monique did this? What happened?" Sam asked as he followed her to the couch. Max sighed again.

"Jess and I went to pick up our supples at the mall, like we planned. We went in through the department store, because I wanted to show her the fountain that we liked. And you know how you go by the perfume counter to get to the mall entrance?" Sam nodded. "Well Monique was there, working. She asked if we wanted to try and new perfume and before I could say no, she sprayed me full in the face. Jess caught a little too, but not so bad."

"That was a really low thing to do," Sam fumed. "And here I thought she was done pulling stunts like this."

"Mm," Max agreed, rubbing at a spot between her eyes.

"You okay babe?" Sam asked with concern as he rubbed her shoulder gently.

"Headache," she murmured tersely.

"Do you want some aspirin?"

"I already took some," Max told him. Sam frowned. It must be serious if Max had already resorted to pain relief. Usually she preferred to tough it out.

"Why don't you go lay down, see if you can catch a nap?" he suggested softly. Max nodded and stood. She dropped an absent kiss on his lips and headed for the bedroom. Sam sighed as he watched her go. So much for spending a relaxing afternoon with his girlfriend.

It was nearly seven thirty that evening before Max woke up again. Sam had busied himself with chores around the house. He'd added vinegar to Max's clothes and was happy to find that it worked. He'd cleaned the bathroom and it had helped minorly. He tried some air freshener, as the hoped for breeze had never materialized. He spent the rest of his time on his schoolwork and reading. When he heard Max moving around, Sam headed for the kitchen, his stomach rumbling. She made her way slowly to the kitchen after him.

"Hey sweetie," he greeted softly. He wouldn't talk any louder until he knew for sure that her headache was gone. She still looked grumpy enough that she might still have it. "Feeling any better?" She shook her head gingerly in the negative. She moved past him and reached into the cupboard to withdraw a glass. "Maybe something to eat would help?" he offered.

"Maybe," she grunted.

"I'll see what there is," Sam smiled and turned to look in the refrigerator. He perused the contents, noting that they'd have to go shopping soon when he was startled by a crash and a thump. He whirled around, stunned to see Max, shaking on the floor, one hand grasping the counter and the other, bleeding. As Sam stepped towards her, his mind registered several things. The crunch of glass under his shoes, blood on her face, the immediate need for tryptophan. He reached into the same cupboard she had just moments ago and took out the bottle of pills they kept there for emergencies. Ignoring the glass on the floor, he knelt beside Max and eased her away from the cupboard. She must have hit her head on the counter, judging by the split skin across her temple. He helped her to take the pills, set the bottle on the counter and then reached for a towel hanging from the oven handle. He wrapped it around the cut on her hand and looked for something to wipe the blood from her face. He grabbed several pieces of paper towel and gave the trickle of blood a cursory wipe. Then with a whispered warning, his heart still pounding a mile a minute from the sudden shock, he scooped her up and carried her back to the bedroom. He'd take care of everything else, later.

Dean watched as his opponent lined up a shot on the pool table and missed. Talk about easy money. He was just leaning over the pool table for his shot, when he heard his cell phone ring. He frowned, debating over answering the call. His glance flickered towards the bar, where his father sat. It was getting late, he knew, so who would be calling him. Dean pulled his stick back up and reached for the phone.

"Sorry man," he offered to the other guy when he saw from the screen that it was Sam calling. "Got to take this call." The other guy, Don, waved his hand casually. "Sammy! What's up?" Dean greeted cheerfully as he mentally calculated the time difference. It was probably close to ten, their time.

"Dean?" his brother's voice was soft, trembling and sounded worn out.

"Sam?" Dean repeated, his heart suddenly pounding in his ears. "What's wrong?"

"Dean?" his brother's voice repeated, cracking slightly. "It's Max." Dean's heart surely stopped for a moment. He'd always thought that he could handle something like this, but right at that moment, he literally felt frozen with fear. "She's seizing," his brother continued. "Has been for hours," he added in a scared voice. "It just won't go away Dean. She's... scared she's gonna die." The words and the surety that Sam shared her fear was enough to push Dean into action.

"We're on our way Sammy," he announced, amazed at how steady his voice was as he left the pool table without a second glance, heading straight for his father. "You tell her to hang on Sammy. She's a Winchester! We don't give up!" He could hear his brother still talking as he jerked his father's arm, catching John's immediate attention. "We gotta go! Now!"

"...too far away..."

"What is it?" John demanded, not questioning the need, as he was already grabbing his coat and sliding off the bar stool.

"Max," Dean answered simply as they headed for the exit. "Sam," Dean addressed his brother once more as they climbed into John's truck, everything else forgotten, "just tell her we're on our way. Keep shoving those pills down her throat and anything else you've got!"

"She's already been through two bottles," Sam informed him tiredly and Dean swore under his breath.

"Then take her to the God-damned hospital!"he shouted. "Do something Sam!" He felt John's hand give a squeeze on his shoulder, warning and comforting at the same time.

"What good would it do Dean?" Sam cried out. "It's not like they've got some miracle drug that would alter her basic brain chemistry to..." he trailed off and Dean heard Sam suck in a breath.

"Sam? Sammy!"

"Dean?" his brother's voice was stronger now. "Has Max ever had a seizure after smelling a really strong perfume?"

Dean was thrown for a moment by the abrupt question. "I don't know," he admitted feebly. "Hang on a second." He turned and repeated the question to his father and John's eyebrows furrowed together in concentration.

"Not that I remember. The only thing about perfume that I do remember is that one lady who smelled like she had bathed in it. It gave Max a really bad headache. But that was it. She felt better once we'd left the woman's house," John recalled.

"Did you hear that Sam?"

"I did," Sam confirmed and Dean was relieved to hear the take action, decisive tone. "That's what I needed to know. I'll call you back." Sam hung up quickly and Dean slowly followed after.

"What happened?" John asked quietly and Dean related the details he knew. Never once though did John slow down. No matter what, they weren't about to let Max and Sam suffer through this alone. And if... God forbid... then Sam would need them.

Sam put the phone down and hurried back into the bedroom. Max had kicked the covers off of her body, still trembling, though weaker now from fighting off the seizures. Sam leaned over her, carefully lifting the lapel of her bathrobe up to his nose. He swore softly as he registered that foul scent still lingering. It was the only thing different in the house that he could think of. The only catalyst he could name, especially given John's recollection. But he had said that Max had felt better once she'd gotten away from the perfume. With a clear indication of what he should do, Sam wasted no time at all. Sitting her up, Sam pulled the robe from her body and threw it to the floor. She made a feeble moaning noise.

"I'm sorry baby," Sam muttered as he rushed over to the closet and pulled out his robe as well as a heavy blanket. "I can't think of anything else." He returned to the bed and wrapped the robe around her shoulders and then pulled her to a standing position that she could only managed by leaning heavily against him. He belted and tied the robe and then hastily wrapped the blanket around her as well. Sam scooped her up in his arms and headed for the back door. Once there, he laud her on a chaise lounger. He tucked the blanket as securely around as he could, warding against the chilly night air. He returned to the house to grab his cell phone and another bottle of tryptophan, thankful that they were well stocked.

He needed help, he knew, but who? His first thought was the neighbors, but they were away for the night. His next was Jessica and he gasped. Max had said that Jess had been hit by the perfume as well. He swiftly dialed her number as he hurried back to Max. He swore when he got no answer. Alli was the closest to Jess and it was her that he tried next. He got a hold of her and after a terse and brief explanation, Alli was on her way to Jess' place. It was a long and tense fifteen minutes until she called him back to say that Jess was fine. She had simply had a headache and must have slept through her telephone ringing. That taken care of, Alli was headed over to Sam and Max's to help as she could.

Sam, who was now cradling Max in his lap, trying to share what little body heat he could with her, watched carefully for any indication of anything. The tremors had seemed to slacken somewhat and he was grateful. But several minutes later, the trembling started again. But before Sam could panic, he heard her mumbling his name. "Hey baby," he whispered, hugging her tightly. "I'm here."

"Cold," she mumbled and waves of relief crashed through him. She was reacting to the cold, not another seizure.

"I'm sorry sweetheart," he returned. "I know you are. But hopefully, it won't be for too long." She simply nodded shakily and burrowed as closely to him as possible. He was able to relax his vigilance just a little, though he kept her pills close at hand. He relaxed even more when he heard a car pull up and Alli calling his name. "We're in the backyard," he called back.

Alli came in through the gate, finding them easily, partially bathed in light pouring out of the house. "How're we doing?" she asked as she knelt beside them on the patio.

"Better," Sam informed her confidently. "Except Max is cold. could you get us another blanket. Not the one from the bed though."

Alli nodded. "Would a hot drink help?"

"It wouldn't hurt to try," Sam decided for Max, since she seemed to be uninterested in anything but hanging onto him. "Just nothing caffeinated. And watch out. There's broken glass all over the floor." Alli nodded and with a reassuring smile, headed into the house. Now that help had arrived, Sam could call Dean back. His brother answered immediately.

"Dude! What the hell's going on?" he growled.

"It's okay Dean," Sam soothed. "I think we've got the problem figured out."

"Is Max...?"

"She's doing better. I got her out of the house and-!"

"Dude, there was something in the house?" Dean's concern seemed to spike again and Sam chuckled weakly. That was always the first thing his family's mind went to.

"No Dean. Let me start from the beginning and explain." He quickly went over the salient points of what had happened and what he'd figured out.

"But why was it still bothering her?" Dean puzzled, after he'd related the events to his father.

"Her bathrobe," Sam answered. "It was in the bathroom and she brushed against it. After her shower, she never changed out of it."

"But you got it figured out?"

"You guys helped," Sam added gratefully. He glanced up as Alli brought out a steaming cup of tea. "Nag on a second Dean." He dropped the phone to his lap. "Thanks Alli."

"It's no problem," she smiled softly. "I put a straw in there just in case she had some trouble."

"That's great."

"Okay," I'm going to start in the bedroom and then hit the bathroom so that we can get her back inside where it's warm as soon as possible."

"As soon as that smell is gone, we will," Sam promised.

"Okay," Alli nodded. "Where do you keep your bleach?"

"Second shelf by the washing machine," Sam answered. "There's also some vinegar if the bleach is too harsh." Alli nodded and headed back to the house. Sam pulled the phone back up to his ear. "Seriously Dean," he told his brother, "I might not have figured this out..."

"Family dude!" Dean snorted, thought Sam thought he could detect a glimmer of deeper emotion in him. "Um, do you still want us to come?" he asked quietly. "I mean, it'll take us a few days, even switching off driving. We just dropped everything. Oh damn it!"

"What?" Sam asked as his lips curved upwards.

"When I say everything, I mean it. I think I just lost two hundred dollars I had riding on a pool game," Dean snorted. Sam chuckled.

"Sorry man."

"Ah, don't worry about it. None of it was mine."

"Of course not," Sam demurred. "Hang on, I'm going to try and get some of this tea into Max." He heard his brother's agreement. He held the tea for Max, but she took it from him. She wrapped her hands around the mug and carefully cradled it, taking occasional sips. Sam kept his hand unobtrusively underneath the cup in case it slipped.

"So what the hell are you going to do to this Monique?" Dean asked seriously after a moment.

"Have her arrested for assault," Sam retorted instantly.

"Could you actually do that?"

"Well that's what it was," Sam sighed. "And there were plenty of witnesses, I'm sure. I know Jess would back us up on it. Maybe even add her own charges since Monique got her too. And don't worry, she's fine," Sam forestalled his brothers inquiries in that direction. "She's just got a headache. I had Allison check on her. "

"That's good," Dean sighed. "I mean that she's okay." Sam understood.

The pair of them, with occasional remarks thrown ion from John on Dean's end, continued to plot revenge until Alli returned to tell Sam that the chemical smell was as gone as she could get it. The boys continued to talk a little more once Max was returned inside. There was some debate about them making the trip all the way out to California and at Max's insistence, Sam asked what they'd been hunting. Upon learning what they were after, Max insisted that she was okay and that they'd catch her next time they were through. John talked to her for a few minutes and made her promise that she'd call at the first sign of trouble. All four knew that they never ever wanted this to happen again.


	19. That Plan Out The Window

Title: What If... Racing Towards Destiny

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Rating: PG-13- MA

Genre: Crossover

Type: Romance

Pairing: Max Gueverra/ Sam Winchester

Summary: What if... Max had been having a different dream?

Spoilers/ Time line: This starts when Max is thirteen and going into heat for the very first time.

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first please.

A/N: This story, while being in the same universe as _When It Changes_, does not actually occur within that storyline. This fiction is just an off-shoot of what **might **have happened.

**Chapter Nineteen**

**That Plan Out The Window**

Max rolled over, her hand searching across the sheets, but encountered nothing. She opened her eyes, blinking against the morning sunlight that filtered into the bedroom. Blinking as well against the gritty feeling that encompassed her eyes. She moistened her dry lips, grimacing at the taste in her mouth. She felt as though her head was stuffed full of cotton. "Sam?" she called as she read the clock on the nightstand. He was probably getting ready for class. And she knew that she should at this point in the day, be getting ready for her shift at work. Max heard movement elsewhere in the house and quickly enough, Sam appeared in the doorway of the bedroom.

"Hey," he greeted her softly as he padded over on bare feet to her side of the bed. "How're you doing?"

"I'll live," she murmured as she started to push the covers back. But Sam caught them and with a quick motion, pulled them from her hand and back up over her form.

"No, just stay put," he instructed gently.

"Sam," Max protested immediately. "I have to get ready for work."

Sam shook his head. "I already called Mr. Hanover and told him that you had an allergic reaction to some perfume. He's given you the next few days off to deal with it."

"Oh, okay," Max replied slowly, sighing. "But what about you? Shouldn't you be heading to school?" Sam shook his head again.

"I've got it covered," he informed her. "The only thing I'm doing today is staying put and pampering you."

Max let a small grin touch her lips for a moment before protesting, "I don't need to be pampered Sam."

He eyed her for a moment, knowing that if he pushed, she'd dig her heels in even more. He could always, he knew, use his fear about the night before to guilt her into staying in bed, but that was a cheap ploy, unfair. And a possible last resort. "I'd like to pamper you just a little. How does some breakfast in bed sound?" he offered. "And then you can see how you feel." Max thought it over for a moment and then nodded.

"Just nothing too heavy, please."

"Scrambled eggs and toast okay?" Sam asked solicitously.

"Sounds good."

"Okay," he murmured, leaning over to drop a kiss on her forehead. "I'll be back in a few minutes." He stood gingerly, trying not to shake the bed. He knew that he was treating her as if she were a fragile piece of glass, about to shatter, but honestly, he had no idea what the after effects of a seizure of that magnitude would be. He was sure Max was hesitant about it as well.

"Sam?" she called to his retreating back and as Sam turned, Max was startled by her body convulsing in a sudden sneezing attack. Sam waited and Max's face tensed as she held up one finger and then sneezed again. She rubbed at her nose and waited to see if anymore were forthcoming. "Do we have any tissue?" she sighed, sniffling. Sam grinned and nodded, her plaintive resignation was endearing.

"I'll grab some and be right back," he confirmed, knowing that they hadn't yet replaced the box they normally kept on Max's dresser. As promised, it didn't take him long to slip into the bathroom and retrieve the box from the counter and return to her with it. His next step was to get breakfast started and run some juice back to her, along with another dosing of her tryptophan.

Once the food was ready, Sam brought two plates back to the bedroom, giving in to the protective urge to be near her so that she wouldn't want for anything. Max, expecting this, scooted upwards in the bed, so that she could eat, seated upright. But just as Sam was about to hand her the plate, she fired off several more sneezes in rapid succession. She dabbed at her nose with another tissue and Sam noticed that there were already several crumpled tissues littering the nightstand.

"I think I caught a cold," Max grumbled and Sam hid his smile at her stating of the obvious.

"I'm sorry," he simply murmured. He handed her the plate as she murmured her thanks. "All the more reason to keep up your energy," he added as he settled himself next to her. He waited until she'd started before he dug into his own portion. He was pleased to see that she did make an effort, even though it was apparent that along with the sneezing, her throat was obviously sore. He refilled her juice glass several times and offered to make tea, but Max declined, stating that he should relax too. He had gotten just as little sleep as she had the evening before. After their breakfast was finished, as much as Max could manage, Sam returned the plates to the kitchen and came back to the bedroom to find Max climbing out of bed.

"So I was wondering if you'd like me to run you a nice hot bath," he offered, checking the urge to help her.

"That sounds wonderful," Max sighed and sneezed again. "I hate being sick."

"I know," Sam sympathized as she picked up her robe and carefully sniffed at it. He smiled, understanding her hesitancy. "Thank goodness it doesn't happen that often."

"I think I can count how many times I've had a cold in my life, on one hand and still have fingers left over," Max frowned as she tied her robe shut.

"Even when you were little?" Sam asked, amused. Max shook her head.

"Even then," she confirmed. "I just never seemed to get sick like that." She seemed lost in thought her face troubled. Before Sam could ask though, she seemed to shake herself out of her reverie. "Guess I'm just lucky that way."

"I don't know," Sam sighed. "If the choices were a childhood full of colds and flus, or those seizures..." Max wrapped her arms around his middle and squeezed him tightly.

"I know," she murmured. "But there's nothing we can do to change it."

"Not yet anyway," Sam tried to push the worry and the fear to the back of his mind. "There's medical breakthroughs all the time."

"And more people working on genetic research and advances all the time," Max included, sounding awed and dreadful at the same time.

"Well, we can hope, right?" Sam offered her a smile. "But in the meantime, let's get you that bath."

Max's cold continued to escalate through the day. By late afternoon, she was exhausted again and fell asleep on the couch. Sam debated over the choice of letting her sleep there or moving her and finally decided to just leave her be. She seemed comfortable enough and he didn't want to wake her if he could avoid it. She seemed to get just as little sleep as she ever did and he wondered if perhaps her sleeplessness on a lot of nights in some way contributed to her other seizures. Making another mental note to look into that, he retrieved the notes that his friends had copied for him from that days classes and started going over them. It was a quiet evening.

The next morning, when they woke, Sam was ready to continue with the pampering. But Max was insistent that he not miss any more classes because of her. So Sam reluctantly attended school, distracted and fretting over her health. Most of his friends and acquaintances teased him over his distraction, but Alli resolutely quieted them. She knew how bad off Max had been and how scared both Sam and Max had been. She said nothing of Max's condition, since Sam had explained to her that Max didn't tell people because she didn't want them to treat her any differently. She respected that privacy.

Sam did however, take Alli up on her idea to bring Max some lunch from the diner. Not sure what her appetite would be like, he ordered several things to go from their usual hangout, including a generous portion of their chicken noodle soup. He arrived home just before noon and found Max in pretty much the same position she'd been in when he'd left that morning. The only obvious changes were the mountain of used tissues littered over the coffee table, her tea cup was empty and she'd pushed the afghan to one end of the couch.

Max looked towards the door when he entered and her face brightened. "What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice thick and stuffy.

"Bringing lunch to my favorite lady," Sam smiled, holding up the bags as he nudged the front door shut with his shoulder.

"You're an angel," she moaned as she reached for another tissue. She blew her nose and pulled her legs up so that Sam could sit. He perched on the edge of the cushion and began pulling items out of the bags.

"I wasn't sure what you'd want," he began, "so there's either a turkey sandwich or a cheeseburger. The soup's definitely for you and if you're a good girl," he drawled as he removed the last small container, "some cherry pie." Max grinned and reached for the pie, but Sam laughed and slid it out of the way. "You must be feeling better," he decided.

"A little, yeah," Max agreed. "It's mostly a runny nose. Actually, that soup sounds really good right now." He pushed the carton towards her before standing.

"I'll get you a spoon. Did you want anything else? More tea?" he asked solicitously. Max glanced at the sandwiches and shook her head. "Okay, I'll put this in the fridge for later, okay?" Max gave a small nod as he reached for the turkey sandwich and moved off to the kitchen. He returned quickly and sat beside her once more, offering her the soup spoon he'd retrieved. She took the utensil with a murmured thanks and turned to removing the lid of the container. "That's all I get?" Sam pouted. Max glanced up at him, startled and then she chuckled.

"What were you expecting?"

"A kiss at least," Sam wiggled his eyebrows at her. Max quirked one eyebrow back at him and sniffled.

"Well, I would sweetie, but trust me, you really don't want this crud."

Sam chuckled. "Max, we live together, sleep together... odds are, I've already caught it." Max rolled her eyes and set her soup back on the coffee table.

"Well, when you put it like that..." she took a huge sniff to clear her nasal passages and then offered her face up to him. Sam laughed at her antics, relieved that she was acting more like her usual self than she had been in the past few days.

"I think maybe I'll reconsider," he chuckled.

"Oh no!" Max protested, inching closer to him. "You wanted a kiss, you're getting a kiss. A nice, big sloppy one!" Sam reached to fend her off and fell back away from her, but she followed after him, climbing over his legs until she was straddling his waist. "Pucker up buddy," she warned, but he was laughing too hard. Max chased his face, finally managing to pin down his cheek.

"Urgh!" Sam groaned as he felt the moisture coating his cheek. "That is so disgusting!"

"Don't worry," Max grinned as she sat back to survey her handiwork. "It's just saliva." She reached for several more tissues, handing some to Sam and then blew her nose again.

"Like that's so much better," he complained gently as he wiped his face clear of offending material. Max just smiled down at him and slowly lowered her face to his. Guardedly, Sam met her, as her lips brushed delicately against his. Teasing and hilarity gave way to tenderness as they continued to kiss. Sam pushed his hands through the thick mass of her hair, pushing it back over her shoulders and then ran his fingers lightly down her back and over the curve of her hips. She moved restlessly against him and he felt the lower portion of his anatomy happily responding. Moving one hand to grope on the coffee table, he found the remote for the television and clicked it off. And the moment he did so, Max broke off their kiss.

"Hey!" she protested. "I was going to watch the news," she pouted as she sat up. Sam gazed disbelievingly at her.

"Well, if that's more important..."

"No, no, I was just saying," Max hurried to say. "We don't have to watch t.v."

"Well, if you're sure," Sam put on a slightly hurt tone.

"I'm sure," Max whispered, smiling at him tenderly. "There's nothing more important to me than you Sam."

"Max, I... I..." Sam turned his face away from her as quickly as possible and then sneezed. His head snapped back to face her, looking startled. "Now see what you did?" he accused.

"Me?" Max giggled. "Hey, you're the one that jinxed yourself there buddy!"

"Oh... right," Sam frowned. "I guess I did, at that."

"But look on the bright side," Max chirped. "Now we can be all sick and disgusting together."

"Well, seeing how I'll take you any way that I can get you, I can live with that." Sam arched against her and with a delighted laugh, she quickly lowered herself to his body once more. Max molded her body along his, desire building quickly between them as she lightly ground herself against his erection. "God, Max," Sam half-groaned before his tongue darted out to taste her skin, just along her throat, under her ear. Max moaned and worked her fingers under his shirt, annoyed by the fact that it was still tucked in at the back. Sam had an easier time of it as he loosened the tie on her robe and was able to run his fingers under the long T-shirt that she'd slept in. His thumbs brushed against the swell of her breasts and Max gasped as she ground against him again.

They were distracted by a sudden, harsh knock on their front door. "Who on earth...?" Max whispered to Sam, who grinned.

"Ignore them," he whispered right back, pushing his hips up against her again. Max smirked and lowered herself to him again, happy to ignore their unknown visitor. But after the next knock, Sam could only focus on that as it was accompanied by,

"Max? Are you here? It is I, Monique."

He sat up so rapidly that he dislodged Max and as he rose to his feet, Max whispered fearfully, "Sam?" Never before had she seen such anger blazing in his eyes. Even all the fearsome creatures that they had hunted had never seen that look. If anything, he'd pitied those creatures, but there was no pity left for this person who'd almost killed the woman he loved. He strode over to the door, anger fueling each step and movement as he yanked the door open.

"What the hell do you want?" he snarled. Monique, preparing to knock again, was startled and she jerked back, almost losing her balance.

"Oh, Sam! I didn't-!"

"Didn't what?" he growled. "Expect me to be here? I live here too, remember? What I want to know is what the fuck you came here for? Because after the stunt you pulled the other day, we ought to have you arrested, at the very least."

"But what happened wasn't intentional," the woman protested. "At least not on my part."

"Right!" Sam snorted, his eyes still glittering dangerously. "Like we're really going to believe that. With your track record?"

"It is true," Monique insisted as she reached into a small store bag, stamped with the department store logo of where she worked. She withdrew a folded sheet of paper and held it out to him. "All I can ask is that you read this. It will tell you. And if that is not enough, please, call my supervisor. The number is listed there and in the telephone book. Just ask for the manager and tell him it is about the perfume incident." She sounded desperate to Sam, but if what she said was true, and she had back-up to prove her assertions... Striving to calm himself down a little, Sam reached for the paper, actually a heavy parchment. Unfolding it, he glanced over the sheet. There was a business letterhead for Laliberte Cosmetics. He skim-read the letter, which was basically a letter to their customers, explaining that an error had been made at the independent chemist's which was to produce their new line of fragrances. The problem had been corrected and anyone suffering from undue side effects was asked to call the companies 800 number.

Sam was of two minds about it. It seemed an unlikely mistake for someone to make. But as he was mulling it over, Max appeared at his side. "What's going on?" she asked, looking from Sam to Monique, who dropped her eyes to the ground. Sam, watching the other woman, in case she tried something else, held the letter up for Max. She quickly read through it, as fast as Sam had and her eyes flicked back to the other woman. "I think you'd better come in Monique," she decided and stepped back. Sam frowned down at her, but she squeezed his hand reassuringly. "You'll have to excuse the mess," Max offered as she led Monique to the living room. "I've been sick the past few days."

"Oh goodness," Monique gasped loudly. "Not from the...?"

"No, just a cold," Max assured her. She resumed her seat on the couch and gestured for Monique to sit. The woman took a perch on the sofa opposite Max.

"I see that I caught you at lunch. I'm sorry, but it was deliberate," Monique confessed. "I do not know your class schedule, or where you work."

"Mm," Max acknowledged, leaning forward as Sam took a seat on the arm of the couch, right beside her. "Well, that's not really important. You're here now. But the thing is," Max tapped the letter in her hand, "I'm not quite sure what to believe."

"I understand," Monique nodded. "We weren't sure of anything until this morning, either. You see, that bottle was the first one we opened. We had just received our advance test copies of it. My manager was quite upset, thinking that someone had tampered with the bottle. But when Charlotte, the other girl working the perfume counter, opened another bottle, it was the same. They all were. We called the company, and were given a little bit of a run about. Finally we were told to ship the product back and they would figure out what had happened. We got that letter this morning."

"So do they know what happened?" Sam asked slowly, anger still throbbing through him. Monique nodded.

"It is though, how do you say? Off the record?" Both Sam and Max nodded. "They are not confirming or denying anything, because of pending police investigation. But the rumor we heard, was that a former, disgruntled employee found work at the chemist company that Laliberte used. Unfortunately, he was a computer person and not a chemist. He had no idea what he was making when he changed the formula. He just wanted to make Laliberte a laughingstock since this is their first foray into fragrances."

"So that's why there's a police investigation?" Sam asked and Monique sighed.

"Well, that would have been bad enough, by itself. Unfortunately and this is unconfirmed as well, at least to us..." Both Sam and Max nodded again, encouraging her to continue. "In most cases," Monique explained, "people simply complained of a headache from the smell. But one woman apparently suffered an allergic reaction and stopped breathing."

"That's horrible!" Max gasped and Sam wrapped an arm around her shoulder and squeezed. Monique nodded her agreement.

"I understand that she was taken to a hospital immediately and saved, but it was a very close thing. I hope you did not suffer-!"

"No!" Max protested immediately. "I just had a horrible headache." Her eyes flickered up to Sam's, asking him silently not to contradict her and he smiled tersely in understanding. If this was all true, then it was just a horrible thing to have happened. There was no way that they could have known the perfume would affect her adversely like that. And Max just wanted to keep her private life, exactly that.

"And now a cold," Monique smiled sympathetically.

"Well, yes," Max chuckled. "But I doubt the two are related."

"Well, colds have been going around," Monique sighed in resignation. "The girl I was filling in for recently has one."

"Just a fact of life," Max shrugged.

"And now, the other reason I came," Monique continued. "Aside from offering my sincerest apologies." Max smiled in acknowledgment and the other woman continued. "It was to deliver this." She nudged the bag she'd brought and had set on the coffee table, towards Max.

"What is it?" Max asked guardedly.

"Officially?" Monique smiled. "It is a gesture of goodwill from both companies, to anyone sprayed by the contaminated perfume.

"And unofficially?" Sam asked archly.

"Unofficially, it is a bribe," Monique chuckled in her rich voice. "You see, they do not wish to be sued, or badmouthed, or both. They spent some time and thought on this, you see. First we have," she reached into the bag and withdrew a small sample bottle, "the perfume, as it should smell. It's very lovely, but I would not blame you if you did not want it."

"Max's nose is pretty sensitive," Sam warned.

"And stuffed up at the moment," Max added wryly. Monique chuckled and bowed her head.

"And from Laliberte, a gift certificate for their cosmetics line." She handed that to Max, whose eyes widened slightly at the amount.

"That's more than I've spent on make-up in the last three years!"

"Yes, well, when you are naturally beautiful," Monique charmed. She reached into the bag again. "There is also a matching certificate from the store. They hope that people would use them at the cosmetic counter, but they are good for anywhere in the store. And lastly, there is this," she pulled out one last, small box and held it out to Max. Max handed the letter she still held to Sam and then took the box. Monique leaned back in her chair and watched her passively. Max carefully opened the box and found a very distinctive pin inside.

"Oh! Aren't these...?"

"The pins for supporters of breast cancer research?" Monique finished for her. "Yes. If you look at the gift certificates, you'll see that they were stamped at the bottom left-hand corner. Each certificate redeemed will be recorded and matching donations will be made to the cancer research institute."

"Genius," Sam groaned admiringly and both women looked at him. "Sorry, but they'll really come off looking like the good guys in all this."

Monique nodded. "Really, I'm sure it's not their fault, although one wonders why that former employee was so upset at the company."

"Could be plenty of reasons for that," Sam snorted. "I'm just wondering how it was that no one noticed that horrible stench before the product was shipped."

"No one said that chemists were geniuses in every aspect of life honey," Max teased, patting Sam's knee. "Just at chemistry."

"Actually," Monique chuckled, "my manager wondered the same thing. And he discovered that the people bottling the perfume noticed that it had a fairly distinct odor. But they didn't find it overly unpleasant. Apparently, it fermented during transportation."

Max made a face. "I won't have to worry about this bottle, will I?"

Monique tried to fight a grin. "No, but I'm sure it wouldn't hurt to check before each time you apply it. Just to make sure, of course."

"Of course," Max grinned back. "Monique? Would you care for some tea?"

"That would be lovely. Thank you."

"I'll get it," Sam offered and stood. As he headed for the kitchen, he heard Max ask how Monique's aunt was doing. He filled the kettle and turned the stove on. Picking up the company letter he'd momentarily set down to accomplish those tasks, he slipped into the bedroom. He grabbed his cell phone and dialed information. A cool feminine voice came on the line and soon enough, he found himself connected to the head offices of Laliberte Cosmetics in Seattle, Washington. As he listened to the automated recording, he found that an extension had obviously been set-up to deal with the companies near catastrophe. He followed the instructions given and with the basis of Max just having a headache and nothing more, was told to contact the department store where the incident had taken place. He would receive immediate attention and service. If he cared to talk to a company representative in person, he could remain on the line.

Sam shut the phone off. He supposed that was good enough for him. The number that he'd been given, matched the one listed in the letter. Monique hadn't just tried to entirely pull a fast one. But still, the way Max had described it, Monique had just flat out doused her, right in the face. Even not knowing that the perfume was contaminated, it was still an incredibly rude thing to do. And apparently Max had been thinking along the same lines, because as Sam came out of the bedroom, he heard Monique explaining herself. But to his surprise, they were laughing about it.

"... and since I normally work in women's clothing, I had no idea how complicated just spraying a little perfume bottle could be. So I'd ask and people would go out of their way to avoid me. And Charlotte told me that spray girls have to fill a quota each day."

"A quota?" Max laughed, disbelievingly.

"Yes, I know!" Monique exclaimed. "So, then I thought I'd get into trouble for not making the quota. Charlotte told me to just spray the perfume. So, I'm spraying wherever I can and people by now are flat out running away from me and Mr. Hudson saw this. Well, he got upset and told me to stop wasting the perfume. I was to offer and no matter whether they accepted or not, to give one small squirt either on the wrist or in the air. And of course, the whole time, Charlotte is sitting there, smiling like a Cheshire cat, deliberately having given me the wrong instructions. And then, Mr. Hudson handed me a bottle of L'Amour and repeated everything he'd just told me! As if I were a three year old child! You and Jessica were the first people I ran into and I didn't even realize it was you until after."

"Oh, I bet you got into so much trouble,' Max laughed weakly. The kettle was boiling by then and Sam turned off the stove and then turned to retrieve some mugs from the cupboard. Despite his anger, he was intrigued in the gossiping outlay of events.

"Yes," Monique drawled. "Well, Charlotte certainly tried to make it seem that way. But at that point, Mr. Hudson was more concerned about what had happened to the perfume. You left immediately, or I would have been able to apologize right then and there."

"Well, you have now and I accept," Max decided, her voice light. "Have they moved you back to clothing?" she asked kindly.

"Alas no," Monique sighed and then chuckled. "You see, I suppose Charlotte was trying to make herself look better, or something along that line. Anyhow, while Mr. Hudson was ranting about the perfume, she got another bottle out. She told me to _'watch and learn, amateur'_ and then promptly sprayed herself with that same horrible gunk!" Both women laughed and Sam smiled too. Yeah, karma could teach very interesting lessons. He loaded up a tray with the items needed. He brought it into the living room and set it on the coffee table before taking a proper seat beside Max and going about the task of pouring for everyone.

"Thank you," Monique accepted the cup he offered and took a brief sip. "So, my story checked out Sam?" she asked so nonchalantly that Sam didn't realize for a moment what she'd asked of him. His startled glance leapt between the two and he realized that they were both waiting for an answer.

"Well, uh I..."

Monique chuckled. "I do not blame you," she offered, crossing one slime leg over the other. "Not after my past behavior." Sam nodded. "So, now that that is taken care of...?" she waited for confirmation, which Sam gave. "Then I would ask a favor of you."

"Oh really?" Max grinned and leaned forward. She had an idea of what the woman needed. "And what would that be?"

"Well, to be honest," Monique sighed. "I could use some ideas about how to approach Jessica, since she was affected as well. If I were to just show up at her home, I'm sure she wouldn't hesitate to, how do they say? Pound me into the ground?"

Sam threw his head back and laughed. "You're right," he confirmed. "She would."

"Don't worry," Max spoke, leaning back with her mug of tea cradled between her hands. "I'll give her a call."

Sam juggled the books in his arms as he tried to insert his key into the lock of the front door. But as he fumbled with the numerous items he was trying to hold onto, the door swung open for him. Max smiled cheerfully up at him as she stepped back.

"Hey sweetheart," she murmured.

"Max?" Sam mumbled as he stepped inside the hallway. She held her hands out to take his books. He handed then over and slung his backpack to the floor. "I thought you had to work tonight?"

"I switched with Rita," she explained as she pushed open the door to the study. "I thought we could have dinner, spend a little time together, that sort of stuff." He watched as she disappeared into the room, although watched wasn't quite the proper term. Ogled was more like it. He pulled his coat off and hung it up in the closet. Honestly, Max was always gorgeous, but tonight she looked downright sexy. Maybe it was because she was wearing her hair up, with little wisps framing her face. Or maybe it was the sleeveless turtleneck she was wearing, that molded itself to all her curves. Too light to be red, too dark to be pink, Sam couldn't decide what to call it. "Come on," Max instructed as she re-emerged from the study. "Dinner's almost ready. Do you want a glass of wine? We had a few bottles left from the party." She moved off down the hallway and Sam stifled a groan. It wasn't the hair or the shirt. It was the pants. Jeans so tight that she must have painted them on, her hips swaying slowly and seductively... She turned into the kitchen and Sam blinked rapidly. Something in his mind was protesting. Oh... right.

"I'm sorry Max," he called. "I can't." She came back to the hallway immediately, her face puzzled.

"Can't what?"

"Dinner and everything," Sam waved one hand in the general direction of the kitchen and then pulled it back to run nervously through his hair.

"How come?" she asked gently, groaning a little.

"Ringwell moved the test up from Monday to tomorrow. He's got something going on and wanted the weekend to grade the papers, instead of leaving it for his TA."

"Well," Max smirked a little as she approached him. "I don't think you have anything to worry about Sam. You've always been a good student. You'll do fine."

"I'm not worried about the test so much. It's the essay portion that I have to prepare for," he explained. "I mean, he gave us three subjects to choose from, but since we don't know what the question will be, well, I need to cover all my bases and make sure my notes are complete. I'm sorry sweetheart, I thought I'd have all weekend to finish this up. Especially since you were scheduled to work on Saturday."

"It's okay Sam," Max sighed as she gave him a hug. "I guess I was just in a romantic mood tonight. But it can wait."

"Are you sure?" Sam asked, feeling bad about the inadvertent wrecking of her plans.

"I'm sure," she smiled and tilted her face up to look at him. "School comes first."

"Okay," he sighed, half wishing that she'd have pushed to have her own way. There was a very good possibility that he would have given in.

"You go study," she directed, giving him a light nudge towards the spare bedroom. "I'll bring you something to eat in a little bit." She kissed his cheek and headed back to the kitchen. He stared after her, part of his brain scolding him for being so interested in her delectable derrier and the rest of his body not caring. But when she disappeared from sight, he heaved a sigh and turned to pick his bag up off the floor. He forced himself to go into the study, instead of following her, which was surprising to him. Usually he was much better at minimizing distractions when he needed to study. But he was having a hard time pushing Max from the front of his thoughts. But it was also hard to do when, instead of setting his bag on the desk as he normally did, he found the spot blocked. He looked over the rocky little fountain that he and Max had admired a few times, set up on the desk, with a jaunty red bow placed on top. There was a small card dangling from it as well. Reaching out, he read the simple _Love You!_ message in Max's script and his eyebrows furrowed together.

A romantic evening and an unexpected gift. Sam swore softly under his breath and gently banged his closed fist against his forehead. Oh lord, he'd forgotten something. He tried to wrack his brain, but there was nothing. They'd already celebrated Valentine's day, with dinner and a movie. And while that hadn't been the most memorable of dates, the heady combination of chocolate and phenomenal sex had been. But Sam could not think of any other special day in February. Maybe Max was celebrating their first time together, though if she was, she was early. Since that day had been in March. Sam grimaced as he realized that Max was probably wondering about his reaction to this gift. He headed back to the kitchen and the candles on the table seemed to confirm what he'd been thinking. Max was checking something in the oven and Sam could smell beef, which they usually didn't buy a lot of, due to the expense of it. He waited until she was done so that he wouldn't startled her, possibly resulting in bumps or burns.

"Max," he began as soon as she had straightened up. "I'm sorry babe."

She turned and smiled. "Sorry for what?" she asked archly, truly not understanding what he meant, instead of teasing.

"For whatever day it is that I forgot," he admitted meekly, leaning into the archway. She looked puzzled for a moment and then her face cleared and she laughed.

"You didn't forget anything Sam," she informed him, bemused. "Or, if you did, then I did too."

"But what about the dinner? And the fountain?" he asked. "Which is wonderful by the way. Thank you."

"I told you," Max shrugged one shoulder. "I just wanted to have a nice evening together. And I bought that fountain with the gift certificate. For both of us. Okay?"

"Okay," Sam returned, hugely relieved. He pushed off the wall and caught Max around the waist. He dropped a kiss on her nose and grinned. "You are an angel for being so understanding."

"That's sweet," Max murmured as she snuggled into his embrace. "But giving you up for the night is a huge sacrifice, you know?" she teased him. "We'll just have to figure out how you can make it up to me later."

"And that'll be my pleasure," Sam whispered huskily, "... later." He lifted her chin with one finger and brushed his lips overs hers. And then the oven timer beeped and brought them back to their senses. "I should go study." He cleared his throat.

"And I'll bring you some dinner in just a bit."

Sam once again found himself forcing his body to turn away and return to the study. He shut the door on the sounds of her puttering around the kitchen and moved to the desk. He turned on the reading lamp, pulled out the rolling chair and reached for his notes. He had a long night ahead of him.

It was perhaps twenty minutes later that he was startled by Max knocking on the door. She came in, carrying a plate and a glass of milk. "Here," she murmured as she slid the plate onto the desk, a little out of the way so that he wouldn't accidentally bump it with his elbow. "I brought you some sandwiches. I thought that they'd be less messy than pot roast." Sam glanced at the plate and saw several sandwiches, thick with slabs of meat and real cheese, not the processed slices. She'd also added some potato chips, a sliced apple and a bunch of grapes. His stomach rumbled as he beheld the food.

"Oh man, that looks great." He reached for a sandwich half and took a huge bite as Max chuckled. She dropped a fond kiss on the top of his head and stepped away, but Sam wasn't about to let her get away. He dropped the sandwich back to the plate and pushed the chair back, chewing rapidly. He grunted as his arm caught her thigh and she looked down at him.

"Yes?" she asked, amused. Sam, looking up at her, rolled his eyes and exaggerated his chewing until he felt he could safely swallow.

"Thank you," he offered.

"It's no problem," Max grinned, but she did lean over to accept a proper kiss from him. She ruffled his hair once and then left him to his work again.

Sam continued to eat and work, though one wasn't going as well as the other. He, for some reason was very easily distracted this evening. And by the silliest things. Like the napkin Max had provided. Or the way she'd cut his sandwiches just as he liked. The ripe juiciness of the fruit she'd chosen reminded him of her lips. And then there was her thoughtfulness of how she'd managed to muffle the water in the fountain. Shaking his head each time, Sam forced himself to keep poring over the books and the notes he was making. She came in again eventually, to take away his empty plate and glass. She asked if Sam wanted dessert. He shook his head in the negative, not daring to look at her. If he did, he'd be lost.

"Well, if you change your mind, it's in the pan in the refrigerator. I'm going to hop into the tub," she informed him. Sam bit his tongue, holding back a groan. He nodded abstractedly, keeping his eyes glued to the page. He heard the door shut and inhaled deeply and the groan finally escaped. Her scent was lingering in the air and really did not need to be thinking about Max getting naked, ready to step into that huge tub. One that they'd already proven was roomy enough for both of them. Especially if Max... Sam groaned again and his head thunked down upon his books. Why couldn't he get her out of his mind? At least for a little while?

Pushing himself away from the desk, he stood and strode over to the front window. He threw it open and stood there, breathing in the cool night air. Gradually his head began to clear. Leaving the window just a slight bit open, Sam returned to the desk. Feeling refreshed, he began to work again. When he heard the water start in the bathtub, he forced himself to concentrate on the gently rushing water in the fountain. That was all he was hearing and nothing more. Once mastered, he returned to his work.

He didn't know how much later it was when he heard the slight lapping of water. He wondered momentarily what she was doing, but shook it off. He heard the water stir again and in his mind's eye, he could see her rubbing one foot against the opposite calf as she did whenever she had bubble bath. He wondered what scent she would have chosen. Was it the cherry blend she'd found in a nature shop? Or maybe the peach scent that he liked on her. Or maybe it was the latest, a collection of honey and almond. That always made him think of Max's body bathed in the sweet, thick, golden liquid.

Sam shifted in his seat, the swelling in his pants demanding attention. He grit his teeth. No bubble bath! Because of course, she might have used some of her bath oils, which Sam loved. The way they made her skin so smooth and slick as she slid along his body... Sam shifted again, going so far as to reposition himself. He listened again for a moment, but all he heard was the water fountain and the gentle hum of the computer. He breathed out a sigh of relief. But minutes later, realized that it didn't matter what he heard, since he was still so distracted that he'd just typed the exact same sentence, twice. And it had nothing to do with the subject at hand, but with the body in the room next door.

Shifting again, Sam flushed as he deleted the sentences. He groaned again, yearning for the good old days when Max could be in and out of the shower in under ten minutes. Why couldn't she just jump in and get washed? Just run that washcloth over her stomach, down her legs and back up again, the delicate curve of her spine...

_'No!'_ Sam told himself. He would not think of Max washing her body... because it was so much more interesting to think of her washing her hair. Reaching up to coax the shampoo through her hair, her breasts tilted upwards, peeking out from under a cloudy foam of bubbles. "Damn it!" Sam snarled and then clapped his hand over his mouth. He could only hope that she hadn't heard him and decide to come investigate. He held his breath and heard nothing outside of the room. He readjusted himself once more, returning his gaze to the computer screen. Just as he began to type again, he heard the tub begin to drain. He held his breath in anticipation until he discerned her footsteps heading away from the study, towards the back of the house. He wasn't at all surprised to find that he was more disappointed than relieved. But it really was for the best. He had to get this work done.

But half an hour later, he was only two paragraphs ahead. He heard the door opening again. He tensed up, hunching forward, hoping like hell that Max wouldn't notice the damn raging hard-on he had. She stepped up beside him and put something on the desk.

"I made you a pot of coffee," she informed him softly. He nodded and dared a breath and then wished he hadn't as an even headier wave of desire assaulted him. Oh lord, she smelled so good.

"Is that a new perfume?" he asked before he could check himself.

"No," she answered, sounding puzzled.

"Ah," he sighed, still staring resolutely at the computer screen. "New bath scent?" and he wanted to bite his tongue.

"No," she murmured again. "Just plain old soap and water." Sam forced himself to nod. Max waited a moment to see if anything else was forthcoming and then said, "well, I'm going to go read in bed for a while. Goodnight sweetie."

"Night," he answered tersely. She turned to leave and Sam caught a flash of sky blue and the whisper of satiny material rubbing together. His head jerked around and Sam saw that Max was wearing a short, very short nighty trimmed with lace. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the desk. He was going to die of frustration right now! While she was calmly turning down the bed covers, bend over the bed, her breasts, flushed with the heat of her bath, ready to spill out of the flimsy material and into his waiting hands...

He was out of the chair and shedding his clothes before he could even register the path he was taking. She was in the bedroom, at the foot of the bed. She didn't even have time to fully turn around before he caught her up in his arms, his mouth latching onto her neck.

"Oh Sam! What-?" she exclaimed in surprise.

"Study break," he growled as his hands moved to grasp any of her that he could reach. Luck was with him as it seemed Max was in the exact same state of... mind.

Their excursion was over almost as quickly as it begun, though no less pleasurable as previous encounters. Sam found his body trembled with the effort of staying upright. Suddenly exhausted, Sam pulled away from her, through his hand lingered on her lower back. With a small, satisfied groan, Max moved to roll over and scoot upwards. Sam followed, collapsing right beside her. They lay facing each other. "I love you," Max murmured.

"I love you too Max," Sam smiled as he reached out one hand to cup the nape of her neck. His thumb stroked under her ear and she shivered a little. He glanced down and wrinkled his forehead as he took in the satin and lace nightgown she wore. "Is this new?" he asked, rubbing his finger across the material covering her stomach.

"Mmm, hmm," Max murmured drowsily, her eyelids heavy over her eyes. "I got it at Diane's party last week." Sam nodded.

"It's pretty."

Max glanced down at herself and then chuckled. "I'm sorry Sam. I honestly wasn't trying to distract you."

Sam just grinned. "You don't need sexy clothes to distract me. You do well enough on your own," he teased.

"Good to know," she giggled, "because I was distracted thinking about you. All... day... long."

"Too bad I had to study," he sighed, shifting closer to her.

"Had too?" Max questioned. "You're done?" she continued, sounding surprised. "Already? I thought this was just a break."

"It is," Sam groaned, rolling onto his back, staring up at the ceiling in frustration. "I just don't want to get up."

"Tired?"

"No," he whispered. "I just love laying here with you, that much." He heard her shift and then her face was looming above him.

"You are so sweet," she complimented, brushing her lips against his. "But you need to study." He was about to protest, but she shushed him. "I need to get up for a minute. Why don't you go get your things and bring them back here?"

"And how is that going to help?" Sam demanded wryly.

"Well I read somewhere, that some people retain more information on a subject when they learn about it and then teach it to someone else. You can tell me what you've been working on. And maybe, if I'm right here, you won't get so distracted, thinking of me being elsewhere."

"It's worth a try," Sam agreed. She pulled him from the bed and went about their tasks. Max made it back to the bedroom first, since Sam had to wait for the printer to spit out copies of his notes so far. When he returned, he found that she had taken over his side of the bed and added some pillows to her side, so that he could sit up comfortably.

"I figured that this way," she gestured to her side of the bed, "if you still want to cuddle, you'll still have your hand free to write."

"Works for me," Sam agreed as he laid the pile of books on the nightstand. He climbed into bed with her and they made themselves comfortable.

"Okay," Max instructed as she snuggled into his side, "glance over your notes and then tell me what you've got so far." Sam applied himself to the task while he absently rubbed his thumb over the supple curve of her shoulder. When he was done, Max turned the notes over and he went over them verbally with her. She checked and Sam was pleased to discover that he'd only missed one point that he'd had listed. "And there," Max muttered. "That sentence doesn't make much sense." Sam glanced at what she was pointing at.

"Ah well," he chuckled. "That's where I was distracted, thinking of you and peach bubble bath." Giggling again, Max pressed a kiss against his bare chest.

"Points for remembering something at least," she explained with a wide smile as Sam stared down at her, bemused. "So what book did you get this from?" Sam reached for the book at the top of the pile and handed it to her.

"Chapter nineteen, page 1167 or 8 I think." Max flipped through the pages and quickly read. She closed it then, keeping one finger inside to mark the spot and returned to peppering kisses all over his chest. "What's this for?" he laughed.

"Just 'cause you're so darn sexy when you remember things correctly," Max pursed her lips. She handed the book back to him and announced, "the paragraph continues onto the next page." Sam grinned and found the last spot he actually remembered reading. With occasional questions from Max, Sam got down to work once more.

It was nice, having her right there to encourage him and work with. And he knew that he should have remembered that from their home schooling

days. John had always been amazed at the quality of the papers that they had co-authored and projects that they did together. He was surprised though when after midnight, he muttered a question to Max and received no answer. He glanced down to see that she was sound asleep. Fondly and slightly amused, since she was more of a night owl than he, Sam dropped a kiss on her head and shifted his arm out from underneath her. And it was just in time too, since he'd been starting to lose feeling in it. He shook his hand carefully a few times and looked down at his girlfriend. She'd rolled onto her back, though her head was still turned towards him. The nightgown that had had a little room in it to move, was now bunched somewhere, causing it to stretch tightly across her chest.

Sam frowned, thinking that it couldn't be comfortable. He knew Max hated falling asleep in creased clothing as she always woke up with a matching mark and numb area on her body. He eased one finger in between her breasts, grasping the material and tugging gently. As she shifted, the nightgown gave way suddenly and Sam's hand jerked reflexively. His knuckle brushed against her nipple and she made a small noise. Sam pulled his hand free and with an impish smile, deliberately rubbed the nipple once more. She smiled in her sleep and murmured again. The smile turned into a smirk on Sam's face. He wondered... just wondered, if her breasts were that sensitive to his touch that he could make her orgasm, just playing with them alone. It wasn't a new thought, by any means. But it was followed by a new thought, by something different. Could he bring her to orgasm in her sleep? This did seem like... the perfect opportunity to find out. And Sam was not one to waste an opportunity once it was handed to him. Carefully he set his books and notes on the floor. He turned back to her and scooting down slightly, gently slipped one breast free of it's lacy confinement, deciding that he'd definitely earned himself another study break.

Max puttered around the house, anxiously waiting for Sam to get home from school. He was supposed to get his test back today. On Friday morning, Max had gotten up early and typed up Sam's notes for him while he fretted over various little things. She'd told him to simply do the best that he could. Afterwards, he'd felt reasonably sure that he'd done okay. And Max knew how much he hated for his schoolwork to be simply mediocre. And she'd had to work that weekend. Each time she'd gotten home, he'd been agitated over something he was sure he'd missed. She'd soothed him as best as she could, never letting her own anxiety through until she was alone. If only this test didn't count for so much of his finally grade, in a required course.

Finally, she heard him at the door and rearranged herself on the couch, trying to look fairly unconcerned. Sam came in silently, dropped his backpack to the floor, hung up his coat in the closet, took something from the bag and came into the living room. He took a seat in the middle of the sofa, not looking at her.

"Hey," she greeted softly.

"Got my test back today," he told her in a low soft voice.

"How was it?" Max asked, frowning. Sam sighed.

"Allen," he said, referring to the teacher's assistant, "read Professor Ringwell's comments right out loud to the entire class." Max cringed a little. This couldn't have been good. "Said my score was not what he had expected to see at all. He wanted to know what on earth happened."

"Oh Sam," Max sympathized, rubbing at his shoulder.

"And everyone's sitting there, waiting for an answer," Sam laughed hollowly. "And I mean, I couldn't tell them that I spent the entire test thinking about you and our study breaks... oh God!" He flopped back against the couch, covering his face with his hands.

"So what did you say?" Max asked breathlessly. Sam groaned again.

"I managed to stammer out your theory about teaching to others to help retain the knowledge yourself."

"And?"

"And Allen said that he'd heard that theory too. He just couldn't believe that I got such phenomenal results with it."

"Ph- what?" Max demanded, suddenly confused. She grabbed the test from Sam's lap and her eyes scanned over the red numbers at the top of the page. "Ni-ninety-eight percent? Sam, that's amazing!"

"Highest score in the class," he bragged, grinning widely, all pretense and ruse dropped now that he'd surprised her. "Next highest score was seventy-four percent. And, that's the overall total. Look at the last page of the essay." Max flipped through and found what he was referring to.

"One hundred percent!" she shrieked. "Oh Sam! Look at this!" He laughed as she read Ringwell's comments out loud. "'Clear, concise, well organized. Has good solid supportive arguments without superfluous details.' This is just..." She turned and threw her arms around his neck. Sam lifted her onto his lap. Max settled herself on his legs, straddling them as she caught his face between her hands, dropping the papers to press a jubilant kiss against his lips.

"Mm," Sam moaned, pulling her closer. "I think we've definitely hit upon a very excellent study technique."

"Yep," Max agreed. "But only for the really important tests."

"All my tests are important," he pouted, shifting his hips under hers.

"Yes," Max grinned down at him, "but if you engage in it too often, it might lose its effectiveness."

"If you're not careful," he grunted, flexing his hips up again, " I just might engage you!"

"You'll have to catch me first!" Max bantered back playfully and then sprang from the couch. Sam shot after her as she giggled and dodged, shrieked and ran. A game in which both would definitely win.


	20. Happy Holidays, Holly Homemaker

Title: What If... Racing Towards Destiny

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Rating: PG-13- MA

Genre: Crossover

Type: Romance

Pairing: Max Gueverra/ Sam Winchester

Summary: What if... Max had been having a different dream?

Spoilers/ Time line: This starts when Max is thirteen and going into heat for the very first time.

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first please.

A/N: This story, while being in the same universe as _When It Changes_, does not actually occur within that storyline. This fiction is just an off-shoot of what **might **have happened.

**Chapter Twenty**

**Happy Holidays Holly Homemaker**

Sam waved at Dennis as he climbed out of his car. His next door neighbor was up a ladder, attempting to string Christmas lights across his housing eaves. "Hey! Need a hand?" Sam called jovially.

"Nah! I'm good!" Dennis called back from his perch. "Just trying to keep up with the Winchester's, you know!" Sam grinned, looking over his and Max's house. Thanksgiving had barely passed, with all of their friends gathering at their home for a pot luck dinner, when Max had started decorating for Christmas. Sam had been confused at first, since family Christmas' weren't much more than gift exchanges, a meal somewhere and usually a hunt. But when Max had pointed out that this was the first time that she actually had a home to decorate and a deeper understanding of the holiday, he happily indulged her sentimentality. And even enjoyed quite a bit of it himself. Especially all of the Christmas goodies that she and the other girls had gotten together on occasions to make.

"Well don't hurt yourself trying," he called back to Dennis and with another wave, headed inside. "Max? I'm home!" he called as he pulled off his coat and hung it up in the closet. He heard the shower running and headed that way, making sure to knock, in case she hadn't heard him before. "Max? It's me," he announced.

"Hey Sam," she greeted from inside the tub. The shower curtain was drawn and it, along with the spray of the water, muffled her voice. "Feel like joining me?" That he heard loud and clear and he began shucking his clothes immediately.

"Always," he laughed. He kicked his clothes into a pile out of the way and climbed into the back of the tub. He sucked in his breath, finding that she was facing him, standing under the spray, rinsing shampoo from her hair. Her head was tilted back so that she wouldn't get soap in her eyes. "Hey babe," he whispered against her neck as his hands spanned her waist. Max sighed dreamily, leaning into him. Sam ignored the sting of reflected spray on his face to continue nuzzling at her neck.

"I thought you'd be gone longer," Max murmured, though she didn't sound upset by the fact that he was home earlier than expected.

"Oh, well," Sam frowned, trying to re-direct his thoughts. He hadn't meant to be distracted when he'd come up with his idea earlier. "A little bad news there. Nothing major though," he hastened to assure her when her eyes went wide.

"What was it?" Max asked, moving slightly out of the spray.

"I didn't get the packages shipped," he informed her.

Max frowned and asked tightly, "how come?" Sam shrugged.

"The place was closed."

Max's face grew indignant. "But I called to make sure," she protested. "They've expanded their hours for the holidays."

"Well, I don't know anything about that," Sam offered genially. "But the store was locked up tight, the lights off. But it'll be okay. I'll run down there tomorrow and if we have to, we'll pay the extra to ship them express."

Max wrinkled her nose up at him. "Now you see why I didn't want to wait?"

"Yes, you're omniscient," Sam teased. "Now, do you want to hear the good news?"

"Mm, spill!" Max grinned as they switched positions and Sam readjusted the spray to accommodate his height. He let the warm water cascade over him for a few minutes, enjoying Max's squirming in more ways than one.

"Well," he drawled as he reached for his bar of soap, "I figured out the perfect Christmas gift for you today."

"Oh really? And what would that be?"

"I'm not going to tell you," he laughed.

"Well now, that's just mean," Max pouted. "Getting me all excited and then leaving me hanging..."

"You love it when I get you all excited," Sam taunted.

"Uh huh," Max retorted dryly, "but you know that the longer you take to satisfy me, the crankier I get. And you know what that means!"

"Actually I don't," Sam fought his grin and arched one eyebrow at her. "Because as far as I'm aware, I've never left you unsatisfied. Or have I been missing something?"

"Oh all right," Max grudgingly conceded. "You're very good in that department. But be warned, I will worm this secret out of you."

"And you're welcome to try," Sam smirked. "Because _I am not_ going to be the one to spill the beans." He replaced the bar of soap on the shower caddy and reached next for his shampoo. He poured a generous measure into the palm of his hand and then began scrubbing it through his hair. Max watched him for a moment, waiting until he'd worked the shampoo through and began rinsing it out before she sank to her knees before him. Sam's eyes snapped open and a startled gasp escaped him. Oh lord! She was not playing fair!

"Boy! Tells me to call at seven and doesn't even bother to answer the damn phone," Dean grumbled disgruntedly under his breath as he listened to the phone ringing endlessly, yet again. He was about to hang up when someone finally answered.

"Hello?" asked a slightly out of breath Max.

"Hey Max!"

"Dean? What's up?"

"Not much," he grunted, though he was smiling widely. "What were you doing? I tried calling a couple times."

"I was in the shower," she replied.

"Well isn't Sammy home yet?"

"He is," Max confirmed.

"Well why didn't he answer the phone then?" Dean snorted and then could almost hear the amused silence coming across the line. "No, wait! I don't want to know!"

"No, I don't imagine you do," Max laughed.

"Uh huh," Dean groaned. "Actually, what I called to ask is, how long is your couch? The new one."

"How long is...?" Max repeated, sounding suspicious, like she thought she was being set up for some joke. "Six feet. Why?"

"Is that total," her brother asked. "Or is that seating area?"

"Total," she answered shortly. "Why...?"

"Oh well, see, Dad and I flipped a coin over who got the bed in the spare room and I lost," Dean explained.

"Who got the bed...?" Max repeated, now sounding mystified.

"But on the up side," Dean continued, "this way I'll be closer to all the presents. I can get into them as soon as I get up. Did you get me something good?"

It came together suddenly for Max and she cried out excitedly, "you're coming for Christmas?"

"Yeah," Dean confirmed, and then tried to sound casual. "Didn't Sam tell you he called us this afternoon to invite us?" he asked, just as his little bother had told him to do. He was startled by a clatter and surmised from the far away sounding shriek, that Max had dropped the phone.

"Oh Sam! This is my surprise?"

Dean could hear his brother laughing. "I told you that _I wasn't going to be the one_ to spill the beans."

There was a long pause and Dean muttered under his breath, "yeah, don't mind me, the guy who has to spend all his time driving to get there..." his rant was disrupted by his brother's panting voice.

"Dean? We'll call you back later." And then there was nothing. Dean chuckled and shut off his phone. It was going to be a good Christmas this year.

"Let me guess," a stout young man announced from beside Sam, who was watching Max. Sam turned his head slightly. "First time buying a real tree?"

Sam grinned as he glanced down at the much shorter youth. "First time buying any tree," he informed the young man who was obviously working in the Christmas tree lot that they had stopped at.

"Ah," the kid nodded. "That would explain it."

"Explain for what?" Sam asked.

"The look on her face," the kid grinned cheekily. "Usually you only see the kids lookin' like that. Most adults already know what they want when they get here. But kids? They just have to look at every single one, you know?"

"Yeah," Sam smiled fondly at his girlfriend as she debated between two trees. Her hand brushed over the pines of one, found a pine cone and gave it a little tap, setting it to swinging. Her eyes were brilliant points of light as she turned to him.

"What do you think Sam?" she asked as she gestured to the tree.

"It looks perfect," he told her, even though it looked just like the rest of the trees surrounding it.

"I thought so too," she murmured, turning back to brush her fingers over it again.

"That the one you've decided on?" asked the lot salesman, stepping forward after helping direct some other customers meandering through the converted parking lot.

Max nodded. "Yeah, that's the one."

"Okay," the salesman turned to the young man beside Sam. "Jimmy, go get the saw please."

"I'm on it Dad," the kid saluted, but stopped to tell Sam, "you know, it's a happy face like that, that makes this whole thing worthwhile. That... and the tips!" He darted away as Sam laughed over his brazenness.

"So? You're setting it up right away?" the salesman was asking Max.

"Tomorrow night," she confirmed, with a nod.

"Okay, Jimmy will square it off right for you. And then you'll want to keep it in a bucket of moist sand or water until then." He continued to give Max instructions about watering and how much needle drop off she could expect and she nodded along, as if this were the first Christmas tree she'd ever been around. It wasn't, since Bobby had always managed to cut down something to decorate his living room with. And Molly Gallagher had invested in an artificial tree all those years ago. But nothing seemed to dim her excitement. The youth, Jimmy, returned and expertly squared off the slanted edge of the base and together, he and his father bound the tree with a length of baler twine. His father took the chainsaw back to the office and Sam followed along so that he could pay for the purchase. Max led Jimmy and the tree to their car that they'd decided to buy that summer, overseeing the very careful procedure of strapping it to the roof.

When Sam returned, Jimmy and Max were finished and the boy was telling Max about their family expeditions to the mountains to cut down the trees. Finding out that it was a locally owned family business made Sam glad that they'd chosen this lot instead of the more commercial lots that they'd seen. He thanked Jimmy, shaking his hand and slipping him a five dollar bill.

"Hey thanks!" the kid grinned as he slipped the money into his jean pocket.

"Yeah, well just keep up that advertising," Sam teased as he moved around to the driver's side, as Max had already climbed into the passenger's seat. As soon as he settled his long frame comfortable, Max was off, talking excitedly about the tree decorations that they'd bought earlier and the glitter spray that she was going to decorate the pine cones with. Sam just held her hand as he drove, and listened contentedly as she rambled on.

"Thanks for inviting me over guys," Jess grinned as Sam took her coat as they stood in the hallway.

"Well, I know you were disappointed about not being able to make it up to your parents place to help decorate theirs," Max shrugged as she led their friend into the living room. Jess went right over to the far corner by the window where they'd set the tree up. There was maybe half a foot between the top of the tree and the ceiling.

"Oh, this is great," she enthused, and as Max had, she ran her fingers over the pine cones. "My parents bought an artificial one a few years ago. I miss the smell of a real pine."

"Well, sniff all you want," Sam teased, "it's not going anywhere for a while."

"So what made you guys change your mind about having a tree?"

"Dad and Dean are coming out on Christmas Eve," Sam supplied, though he didn't explain to Jessica the significance of that. That he was reaching out to his father to try and mend this rift between them, for Max's sake. He alone knew how desperately she missed them and that their visit was where all of her real excitement over the holiday was stemming from.

"Oh, so we'll finally get to meet your Dad, huh?" Jess chuckled.

"Maybe," Sam shrugged. "I doubt it though. They'll only be here for a few days. He's really dedicated to his job."

"I'll say," Jess snorted delicately. "The way Max talks, he never takes a break."

"Not usually, no," Max agreed and then hurried to say ," would you like something to drink?" Jess nodded and Max looked to Sam He shook his head and moved over to begin separating some packages lined up along the wall. Jess followed after him.

"Oh my goodness. Max has been busy."

"Yup," Sam grinned as he found the bags that contained the tree decorations, as opposed to other household decorations and some gifts. "She's been buying stuff for everybody." There were several bags left against the wall as Sam began unloading the decorations.

"And I'm hoping that's for Tasha," Jess chuckled, pointing at the toy store bag which contained a toddler's activity table.

"I suppose so," Max sighed as she returned from the kitchen with a soft drink for her friend. "I mean, Sam'd look awful funny trying to fit his legs under that."

"Oh, speaking of, how'd she like her birthday gift?"

"It was a huge hit," Max grinned. "I'm glad you suggested it."

"Yeah, Trish really appreciated it," Sam nodded and then laughed at the memory of Tasha's first birthday party that he and Max had been invited to.

"I'm sensing a story here," Jess laughed, wrinkling her nose in amusement. She and Max took seats on the couch as Sam continued organizing things.

"Well," Max began, "you can tell that this is the first grand baby on either side." She made herself comfortable before continuing. "Dennis' mom bought jewelry for Tash, even though Trish is against piercing her ears. And Trish's mom wanted to give her a kitten, even though Dennis is allergic to them."

"Oh good lord," Jess chuckled, rolling her eyes.

"And of course, tons of gifts. Well every time Tasha would open one, she'd want to play with it. But oh no, the grandparents would take it away and shove another one at her."

"That must have been very frustrating for the baby," Jess noted and Max nodded.

"Well, Trish finally took her to the bedroom, crying her eyes out while Dennis lectured the parents. So when they came back out, they let Tasha find something to play with. And she heads straight for this walker that Trish's mom got her. So Andrea's showing it to her, helping her push it around. And its got this compartment in it, so you can store the accessories, right?" Max explained and Jess nodded. "Well, Andrea showed her that and I guess she thought it was just like her stroller and she sits down on it. Busted it right apart."

"Oh no!" Jess gasped and then laughed.

"It was made to do that," Sam interjected as he started untangling a string of lights. "It just pops together."

"But then Dave and Steve are trying to tell Dennis how to fix it," Max picked up the thread of the story again through her laughter. "And they keep yanking it from each other, trying to prove their manliness over a plastic toy." Jess was laughing so hard by now that she was holding her stomach. "So Tasha's crying, everyone's fussing over her and she just wanted her toy. Finally, she crawled over to Sam and hid behind his legs." She glanced fondly at her boyfriend who was smiling over the memory. "So he picks her up and takes her over to the couch and helps her open our gift."

"Which was the toy stroller," Jess nodded, keeping up with the story.

"So he puts her in the stroller, which she _just_ fit into and they go zooming all over the house. Which was so funny to watch, since the thing barely came up to Sam's knees. He had to crawl all over the house to push her."

"Well it didn't seem fair to just leave her sitting there," Sam defended himself with a huff and then a chuckle.

"So on one of their trips through the living room," Max continued, "I hand Tash the baby doll that we got for her and suddenly now, Baby has to have a turn. So Sam helped her get the doll in the stroller and off she went."

"Sounds like it was a very good gift," Jess commented.

"It was," Max nodded. "Trish told me that the next day, Tasha was pushing it down the hallway and it got away from her. Well, she was so busy trying to catch up with it, that she just kept on walking."

"Oh, that's awesome," Jess crowed, knowing from previous gossip, that the couple had been fretting over their daughter not walking on her own at that point. Sam laughed and turned back to the women.

"You know," he mentioned, "it was a good thing that Max decided on that plush doll instead of the plastic one." Max giggled and nodded.

"Oh yeah. When it was time for cake, Marissa picked up Tasha to take her to the table, but Tash wanted to keep playing. She starts yelling 'no no!' and smacked Marissa right in the face with it." Jess began laughing again. "Here, I should get the pictures," Max decided, getting up from the couch after setting her drink down. She headed for the study and was soon back with a very full shoe box.

"Oh my God," Jess snorted as Max placed it on the coffee table. "Are you ever going to get a photo album?"

"Oh, one of these days," Max shrugged as she rifled through the pictures.

"You know," Jess spoked contemplatively, "you should talk to Allison. She knows one of those ladies that does those Creative Memories photo album things. You know, where you make theme pages and stuff, instead of just shoving pictures in those plastic sleeves. I think the woman does workshops and stuff."

"That could be fun," Max smiled.

"Oh great Jess," Sam snorted. "Give her another hobby to clutter up the house with."

"Hey," Max pouted teasingly. "I notice you don't complain about the end results of those hobbies. Like all the cookies I bake?"

"Well somebody has to eat them," Sam retorted.

"Or riding my motorcycle?"

"Because we didn't have the car back then."

"Or the slippers I knit for you?"

"They keep my feet warm."

"Or the afghan I made?"

"Because that covers all of me without having to stretch it out."

"Or the necklace that I made in jewelry class?"

"Because that's all you were wearing when you showed it to me..." Sam's mouth snapped shut and he flushed, realizing what he'd just admitted out loud as both women laughed. "Dean's right," he chuckled. "You are a brat!"

"But you love me anyway," Max cooed right back. Sam's lip twitched.

"Yeah, I guess I've learned to put up with you."

Max grinned and went back to finding the photos that she wanted. She handed them to Jess, who set down her glass to flip through them. "These are hilarious," she chuckled.

"Yup," Max nodded. "Dean loved them too. Especially the one where Tasha smooshed cake up her nose. Actually, he offered me fifty dollars if I could get a shot of Sam wearing a lamp shade sometime."

Jess laughed and shook her head. "There's no way you'd ever get Sam that drunk."

"Who says I'd have to be drunk?" Sam retorted as he finished laying the lights across the floor. "I'd consider it... if the bribe was right." He threw a wink at Max over his shoulder. Her grin widened as she stood up.

"Excuse me Jess," she murmured. "I have to go scheme on that for a while, er, I mean check on dinner!"

"It looks wonderful," Jess sighed as they all stood, staring at the fully decorated tree.

"You guys did a good job,' Sam complimented as he stood behind Max, his arms draped loosely around her waist. Max rubbed at his bare forearm.

"You helped," she reminded.

"Only because you didn't feel like getting the step stool," Sam teased. He'd been more happy just to watch the animation of her face as she'd fussed over the tree.

"I can't believe we went through so much popcorn," Max marveled, fingering a strand of the old fashioned garland.

"I warned you," Jess said. "Although, I think that the microwave popcorn worked better than regular popped kernels did."

"They grow it specially," Sam informed her," to be bigger and puffier." Jess nodded.

"I'll have to tell Mom about that. She always complains about the kernels popping so small and then breaking on the needle."

"The pine cones turned out nice," Sam offered. And the were, with hints of gold and silver sparkling at them from the depths of the tree.

"And we can take them off before we take the tree out to the curb and put them in a bowl," Max announced. Sam's eyebrows furrowed together.

"Why would we do that?" he asked as the telephone began to ring. He let Max loose as he moved to the kitchen to answer it.

"Cause it'll look pretty, silly," Max grinned. Sam grinned back and disappeared around the corner to get the phone. Jess and Max continued to fuss over the tree.

"Hey Max?" Sam called, poking his head around the corner. "Are we free next Saturday night?"

Max shook her head. "I have to work Saturday night, remember?"

"No, the Saturday after that," Sam clarified.

"Yeah, we're free," Max declared. "Why?"

"Dennis was informed today that attendance of the company Christmas part is mandatory. Trish wanted to know if we could babysit."

"That's fine with me," Max grinned. Sam pulled the phone back up to his mouth.

"Trish? Yeah, we'd love to!"

Jess threw Max a heavy look, full of meaning.

"Grr," Max growled playfully, understanding the meaning behind the look immediately. "When we're ready," she warned yet again.

"If it weren't for Sam's determination to finish school," Jess grinned, "I'd say he's ready now." Max made a non-committal sort of noise. She shared Jess' opinion, but between her and Sam, they had definitely decided to wait on the kid issue. They had all the time in the world. "So speaking of schedules," Jess very graciously changed the subject.

"Were we?" Max frowned.

"We are now," Jess chuckled. "You'll have to let me know when you're both free for the Christmas party I'm planning. We've all decided that we're not taking advantage of you guys again just 'cause you have a house."

"It's no problem," Max shrugged. "We don't mind."

"Yes, but for once, you need a night off just to relax, instead of having to run the show," Jess pointed out. "Besides, you'll have enough of that while Sam's family is in town."

"And I can't wait," Max smiled benignly.

"Max, come sit down," Sam implored to her yet again. "They'll get here when they get here."

"Blah," Max snorted as she moved from the window over to the couch where Sam patiently sat. "Dean said Christmas Eve and knowing them, they'll stroll in here just before midnight."

"Exactly," Sam stressed as he caught her hand and pulled her into his lap. "So quit fussing and just relax."

"I'm sorry," she apologized, resting her head on his shoulder. "I'm just so excited."

"I've noticed," Sam remarked dryly.

"It's just been so long since I've seen them."

"I know," he murmured, playing with her hair.

"And it's been even longer for you and Dad."

"It has," he agreed mildly and though he didn't say it, he was nervous as well. Mostly about seeing his father. He wondered if John was coming out just for Max's sake. Did he possibly have any interest in seeing his son? Would he accept Sam's apology? He coaxed Max's head back and whispered kisses along her face. Suddenly, distracting her seemed like an excellent way to pass the time. And as he hoped, her focus narrowed down to him as she pulled the arm of his that was resting on her thigh up around her waist and returned his kisses. He slid his finger under the loose hem of her cheery green sweater she was wearing as her tiny fingers caressed his jaw. Both knew that it wouldn't go farther than this, since Dean and John really could show up at any moment. It was almost like they were kids again, Sam mused, trying to get in some loving moments before they had to go back to being what everyone thought of them as. But this time it was different. There would always be later, alone in their bedroom, in their home, where their couple hood was an established and welcome fact. Looking forward to that later, made it easy for them to take it slowly now. Just a little something to fuel that anticipation. But after a little bit Max pulled away.

"Phone," she told him breathlessly and only then did Sam hear it ringing. She made to get up, but Sam tightened his grip on her waist. She turned to protest and he planted a quick kiss on her nose before he let her loose. Max flashed him a grin and hurried to the kitchen to answer. Sam relaxed against the sofa, listening in as she answered. "Hello?" she asked. "Oh hey Dean! Where are you guys?" Sam waited for her to continue. "Why? What happened? Are you guys okay?" That did not sound good. Sam propelled himself off of the sofa and into the kitchen. Max's back was to him. "No, no, I understand," she was murmuring. Sam stepped up behind her and rested a hand on her shoulder. She turned and looked up at him, but quickly glanced away. But not before he saw the tears glistening in her eyes. "No Dean," her light tone sounded forced. "It's okay. Really. I'm not mad. I just need to... go... get something out of the oven," she ended faintly. She handed the phone blindly back to Sam and when he took it, she hurried to their bedroom. Sam gritted his teeth as he heard the very quiet click as the door shut behind her. Only then did he pull the phone up to his ear.

"Dean?" he spoke slowly, trying to keep a lid on his suddenly simmering anger.

"Boy, she's really turned into a little hausfrau, hasn't she?" his brother joked immediately.

"Dean," Sam's tone held a warning in it.

"Or maybe I should call her Holly Homemaker," he continued to joke.

"Dean," Sam's voice was deeper than usual with emotion.

"Yeah?"

"She finished all of her baking yesterday," he told his brother pointedly. "And we've already eaten dinner." He heard his brother sigh.

"Sammy, I'm sorry." His older brother sounded suddenly weary. "But an urgent case came up."

"Right," said Sam shortly. "And how hard did Dad search to find it, so that he'd have an excuse not to come out here?"

"Look Sammy, don't be that way," Dean cajoled, but it had no effect. "This just can't wait."

"And no one else can take care of it," Sam snarled. "Yeah! I've heard that line of crap before Dean. All my life I've heard it. And you just go right along with it."

"Damn it!" Dean suddenly snapped. "This is what Dad was afraid of. That we'd get out there and you two would get into it about something and ruin Max's Christmas."

"And instead he's just made her feel unimportant," Sam snapped right back.

"Hey," Dean roared, "you two left. Remember that? You walked out on us!"

"And I was the one that reached out, because I wanted to put this separation behind us," Sam told his brother heatedly. "But there is obviously no way in hell that Dad could handle that, is there? Because if he doesn't have his anger, then he has nothing. Doesn't he Dean?"

"Shut up Sam!" Dean warned and then softly, "he has me. He needs me."

"Don't delude yourself man," Sm snorted. "It's the other way around. You need him. Otherwise, what've you got? A pissed off brother who can barely stand to speak to you, your sister crying in the bedroom, because she misses you so badly it makes her sick and the rest is just emptiness."

"Sam," his brother muttered faintly. He could hear the pain and hurt in Dean's voice, but it didn't change how Sam felt.

"You know what Dean? Maybe you're right. Maybe you and Dad need each other. But right now? Right now Max needs _me_!" He hung up before his brother could say another word. But now that he'd burned off the worst of his anger, hurling accusations at his elder brother, Sam felt kind of sick inside. He set the phone back gently in it's base and headed for the bedroom.

He opened the door to see Max, lying stiffly on her side, hugging herself tightly around the middle, staring at the wall. He padded quietly over to his side of the bed. He climbed onto the bed and laid himself out beside her, though he propped his head up with his hand. "Hey," he whispered against her shoulder as he slid his free hand around her waist and arms. She held herself stiffly still for just a moment longer and then turned herself over, and buried her face in his chest. Sam rubbed soothingly at her back.

"I really wanted them to come," Max sobbed suddenly as the tears she'd been holding back finally began to flow.

"I know baby, I know," he told her quietly. And not knowing what else he could do, he simply held her until she had cried herself to sleep.

When Sam woke the next morning, Max's side of the bed was empty. He glanced around, noting that it was just after seven and that the bedroom door was ajar. He could hear sounds in the kitchen and scents tickled at his nose. He pulled the covers back and sat up. He rubbed at the gritty feeling in his eyes. Yawning, he found his slippers under the bed and pulled them on. He slipped out to the kitchen where he found Max vigorously stirring something in a bowl. "Hey sweetheart," he greeted, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. "Merry Christmas." She turned her head and gave him a tight smile.

"You too," she offered softly.

"You're up early," Sam observed.

"Well," Max shrugged one shoulder. "I couldn't sleep any more. And I figured that there was no reason why we shouldn't enjoy the day. So I made cinnamon rolls for breakfast."

"Mm," Sam's nose twitched appreciatively. "That's what smells so good. And what's this?" he asked, trying to swipe a finger through the white, creamy confection in the bowl.

"Cream cheese frosting," Max chuckled a little as she tried to keep the bowl away from him and keep stirring at the same time. It did Sam good to hear her honestly making an effort. At last he got a dab of the frosting and instead of eating it, smeared it over the end of her nose. "Sam!" she laughingly protested. Before she could say any more, they heard a knock at the front door.

"Wonder who that is," Sam asked as the oven timer beeped.

"Maybe it's Trish and Tasha trying to escape mother in law mayhem," Max joked.

"One way to find out," Sam sighed as Max bent over the now opened oven to retrieve the rolls. Sam shuffled through the hall, yawning once more as he rubbed one eye. He pulled the door open and stopped short when he saw his brother's slightly haggard, yet grinning face, waiting for him.

"Ho ho ho," Dean offered quietly.

"Dean?" Sam mumbled and they both heard a clatter from the kitchen. "Is it...?"

"Yeah, it's just me," Dean told him, shrugging awkwardly and then Max was there.

"Oh Dean! You made it!" Max enthused, stepping forward to Sam's side.

"Yeah," he agreed roughly. "Had to drive most of the night, but I'm here."

"Well come in," Max invited. "I'll get some coffee going and the cinnamon rolls are almost ready." Both men couldn't help but notice the way her eyes were sparkling.

"That sounds good," Dean grinned, "but I need Sammy out at the car first." He glanced at his brother and Sam nodded weakly.

"Just let me grab a coat first." He did so, glad he had worn sweats and a t-shirt to sleep in. He followed after his brother as Max happily headed back to the kitchen to make the proffered coffee. "Dean," Sam called after him as his brother stepped off the porch. Dean turned back expectantly. "Um, about last night... I'm sorry. I didn't mean it," he rushed on. "I was angry and... you know?"

"Yeah, I know," Dean accepted calmly. He jerked his head toward the car and continued down the front walk. "I was too."

"Oh," Sam muttered, following.

"Yup," Dean confirmed easily. "So pissed that I walked back in and told Dad that I was coming out here come hell or high water."

Sam grinned at that. "What'd he say?"

"Nothin'," Dean shrugged. "He just grabbed his stuff and left. But when I got out to the car," he opened the back door and gestured inside, "this was here." Sam glanced inside and saw a very large, wrapped package. Bending over, he turned the gift tag to face him and saw in his father's handwriting, 'for Sammy and Max'. He blinked a few times and glanced up at his brother. "Why should I have to carry it in?" his brother teased. "Go ahead and grab it. I've got to get the other stuff." He pulled his keys from his pocket and went to unlock the trunk. Sam carefully heaved the package out, surprised by the weight of it. Dean had slung a bag over his shoulder, picked up a few presents that hadn't fit anywhere else and expertly closed the trunk lid with his elbow. Once Sam was out of the way, he bumped the back door shut with his hip. He followed Sam, who'd luckily left the front door slightly ajar.

Sam pushed the door open with his shoulder and led Dean into the living room. Max was waiting there. Her eyes widened as she saw what Sam was carrying and he flashed her a grin. "From Dad," he explained as he stepped around her to lean it against the far wall. Dean approached her, an apprehensive smile and held out the packages that he was carrying in his arms. Max arched a single brow, took the packages from him and set them carefully on the sofa nearest her. She turned back to Dean and then threw herself into his arms. Sam watched as the apprehension on Dean's face melted away in a millisecond and was replaced with a look of peace.

"Thank you," Max murmured. Dean didn't say anything at all, just hugged her a little more tightly. Finally, they let each other loose and Max stepped back and cleared her throat. Dean gently lowered his remaining bag to the sofa as well. "So how long can you stay?" Max asked, striving to keep her voice clear of any petulance or accusation.

"Tonight at the latest," Dean sighed. "So? Presents?"

"They can wait," Max decided. "You need some more sleep."

"Nah, I'm fine," Dean protested as he pulled off his coat. "Although, a little coffee probably wouldn't hurt."

"Dean, if I know you, you're probably swimming in it by now," Max teased. "Don't worry, we won't start without you."

"Well," Dean tried to smother a yawn, "if you guys don't mind..."

"Go Dean," Sam instructed. Dean flashed them a grin and disappeared into the study. Sam approached Max from behind and wrapped his arm around her waist again. He pulled her hair out of the way and pressed a kiss against her neck. "Well, this morning is turning out better than we thought, huh?" he asked softly.

"It is," Max agreed. "Okay," she grunted suddenly, pulling herself up straighter. "I need to frost the rolls as soon as they're cool. And I think that I'll put the turkey in a little early. We can probably eat at about one."

"Anything I can do to help?" Sam grinned. Max nodded. She was full of ideas to help the morning move along quickly.

When Dean woke up that morning, he knew that several hours had passed. His nose twitched as several tantalizing smells assaulted it. Most of all, the appreciated scent of brewed coffee. Clambering out of the bed, he looked around, actually noticing the contents of the room this time. The bed was in the same place as before and right beside it was a small bookcase. It was crammed full of school books and reference books. The desk was neat and tidy, though Dean knew that even if Sam weren't on winter break, it would still be that way. There were a few photos in frames littered across the top of the desk. Dean saw the familiar one that Max had had done last year, with the kittens. But now there were some of just her, some of Sam and Max together and one of them gathered with a huge group of friends. Dean smiled, happy to know that they'd built themselves a good life. And if he were honest with himself, just a tiny bit jealous. He glanced at his watch, and saw that it was nearing eleven a.m. He probably could have slept for longer, but he felt hunger gnawing at his belly. And it wasn't just for food. He wanted to spend as much time with Sam and Max as he could.

Dean headed back into the main area of the house and found the couple in the dining room. As soon as Max heard him, she'd moved out of her chair to retrieve a cup of coffee for him. She placed it before him as he took a seat and he gratefully took a deep swallow. He heard the microwave beeping and the next thing he knew, she had placed a huge cinnamon roll, piled high with frosting before him. Eying it appreciatively, Dean picked up the fork accompanying it and cut in. He didn't care about their chuckles as he shoved a huge piece of it into his mouth. Damn it! He was hungry! As the flavors melded in his mouth, Dean's eyes rolled up in his head and he moaned, "oh my God! That is sooo good."

"Thank you," Max chuckled modestly. Dean swallowed and pointed at the baked confection with his fork.

"You made this?" he demanded. She nodded. "Seriously?" Max grinned and Sam chuckled.

"Yeah," she confirmed. "Jess and Alli took turns giving me cooking lessons.

"Cool," Dean enthused as he cut another portion off. He saw now that they had used, empty plates before them, though they were lingering over their coffee.

"Oh, speaking of Jess," Max grinned. "She dropped off a present for you a few days ago," she told him.

"She did?" Dean paused, his eyebrows going up in surprise.

"Yeah," Sam confirmed, stretching. "She said that she thought of you as soon as she saw it and just _had_ to get it for you."

"And that you'd understand it," Max threw in. "Gotta say, it's a little curious." Dean snorted and grinned at his brother.

"In other words, Max is getting impatient and wants me to hurry up and open it so her curiosity will finally be satisfied."

"Pretty much," Sam nodded, trying not to smile.

"Jeez," Dean snorted inelegantly. "I'd have thought you;d have broken her of that by now," he taunted.

"Well, I gotta say, I get a little impatient myself," Sam retorted, throwing a wink at Max and Dean understood immediately the innuendo when a blush highlighted her cheeks.

"I don't wanna know!" he announced.

"Oh, and how many times did _he _talk your ear off about his sexual acrobats?" Max calmly asked her boyfriend.

"Too many times to count," Sam assured her.

"I'm warning you," Dean waved the fork threateningly, "my brain'll explode if you go there."

"Do it Sam!" she cried out ruthlessly as she grinned. "I'd pay good money to see that."

"Such a brat," Dean sighed. "I guess you just don't love me anymore, huh Maxie?"

"I fed you, didn't I?" she shot right back. "Besides, how else are you going to sharpen your wits?"

"They're plenty sharp," Dean retorted. "And as for feeding me, any chance of another?" He pouted at her as she took his plate.

"No chance," she grinned and ruffled his hair. "You have to save room for turkey dinner." Dean's eyebrows rose at that.

"And all the trimmings," Sam added.

"I guess Holly Homemaker was right," Dean chuckled. Sam gave a small nod as Max sighed.

"I'm not even going to ask." She placed their dishes in the dishwasher, refilled Dean's coffee and then wiped down the table hurriedly.

"Come on Max," Dean cajoled. "Presents!"

"And they call me impatient!" they heard her snort as she rinsed out the washcloth. While he waited for his sister to emerge again from the kitchen, Dean rose and crossed to the far outside wall and studied the collection of pictures lining it.

"This is a good picture," he commented, pointing at a studio portrait that they'd recently had done. Aside from that and the picture of Max on her Ninja, the rest were candids.

"Oh yeah," Sam agreed. "That turned out pretty well."

"But don't you usually face the camera?" Dean teased. In the picture, Sam was looking to the right, as you looked at it, or his left as he was sitting. Max's body was facing forward, but their eyes were gazing at one another.

"We were, but Max didn't like it. So she turned around and planted this big kiss on me..."

"... and the idiot photographer actually managed to snap that picture,' Max completed as she rounded the corner. She crossed the room to the end table by the window and picked up several filled-to-the-brim stockings. She held one out to Dean with a grin.

"Aren't we a little old for stockings filled by Santa?" he teased as he moved to accept it.

"Well if you don't want it..." Max chuckled, pulling it away.

"Uh uh," Dean snorted. "Gimme!" He snatched it back, careful not to spill his coffee. Max turned to Sam.

"And now do you see where I learned it all?" Sam grinned and accepted his stocking and a kiss from her.

"Dean, you're a brat," Sam announced. "And yet, such a wonderful role model."

"Somebody had to be," Dean grinned as he set his coffee on the end table and took a seat. He noticed that there was another stocking there, presumably for John. Max and Sam followed after him, although Sam opted to sit on the floor, between Dean and Max's feet.

"So what did Santa get me?" Dean muttered.

"Things that she thought you might be running low on," Max answered quickly. Dean began to dig through the stocking and found that she'd gotten all of his favorite brands of necessities. He laughed though, when he pulled out a bottle of cologne.

"What?" Sam asked, glancing up from his own pile of goodies.

"Your girl's got a mind like an elephant," Dean laughed. He showed Sam the bottle and then turned to Max. "You know, I always meant to get some of this, but I couldn't remember the name."

"Well, now you'll have an easier time of it," Max grinned.

"Still not getting it," Sam grunted.

Max leaned forward to tell him, "that's the scent I picked out for Dean when he was buying you all that date stuff, years ago."

"Ah," Sam nodded. He held his hand out and Dean obligingly passed the bottle over. Sam opened and then sniffed at it.

"It's not bad," he decided. "A little... wild man of the woods though."

"That's what I thought," Max giggled. Dean took the bottle back.

"As long as it drives the ladies wild, I don't care what you call it." He set the bottle aside and began pulling out the chocolates and other goodies that Max had managed to cram into the stocking, and then, "a lottery ticket?" he asked, pulling out a Southern California scratch and win ticket.

"Chuck was telling Max about how it's been a family tradition forever with them," Sam told him.

"And I figured, what could it hurt," Max chimed in as she scratched off her ticket. "Hey! Two dollars!"

"Two dollars," Sam repeated, holding up his own ticket. Max gave him a fond kiss and they turned expectantly to Dean.

"No two dollars," he informed them in a pouty voice. "But on the upside..."

"Not your money wasted?" Sam teased with a laugh.

"Well that," Dean conceded, "and it says that I won fifty. Guess I've got my gas money now!"

"I told you that Sam was a good luck charm," Max crowed.

"Huh," Sam grunted. "If I was so charming, that would've been my ticket." They all laughed and repacked their stockings.

"Now presents?" Dean asked hopefully, reminding Max of an eager little boy.

"Yup," Sam agreed as he crawled over to the pile underneath the tree and started handing them out. He found Jess' first, curious himself as to what the blond had bought for his brother. Both he and Max waited for Dean to open his first and he knew it. He played it out as long as he could before he drew out, from what the other two could see, was a black T-shirt. Dean shook it out and his smirk grew before he collapsed back on the sofa, laughing.

"What?" Max asked, grinning as well.

"That is so awesome," Dean chuckled and then turned the shirt around for them to see. Max stretched it out slightly to see a cartoon Smurf. But instead of the usual get-up, this one was wearing black pants, a black leather jacket, sunglasses and the word 'Smurf-a-licious' was emblazoned underneath.

"I didn't know you liked the Smurfs," Sam commented with a strange look on his face.

"Let's just say that I've recently learned to appreciate just how fun those little blue freaks can be," Dean grunted back with a satisfied smirk on his face as he looked the shirt over again. Max and Sam exchanged looks and shrugs and then set about opening their gifts. Max chuckled over hers and Sam glanced up at it and groaned, causing Dean to look up.

"How many hobbies does she think you need?" Sam demanded as Max admired the beginner's cross-stitch kit she and Jess had looked over several weeks before.

"Oh Sam," Max laughed. "I promise, I'll save it for when you're not home or when I can't sleep."

"You know, instead of doing that when you can't sleep," Sam began and then glanced at Dean. "Know what? Never mind," he mumbled, glancing again at his brother and then snapping his mouth shut.

"Jeez Sam," Dean guffawed over his brother's shyness. "I'm quite aware that you guys don't spend all your time playin' patty-cake." He turned to Max. "All this time with you and he's still this shy? Sometimes I wonder if we're even related," he snorted.

"Sam just doesn't kiss and tell, unlike _some_ people," Max smirked. "And if you don't quit teasing him, I'll tell him about Darlene and the vodka incident." Dean sat up straight, his eyes widening.

"How'd you know about that?" he demanded, scowling.

"Bratty little sister, remember?" Max taunted. She opened her mouth, turning to Sam, but Dean leaned forward.

"Sammy, I beg you, appease her with gifts! Many, many gifts!"

"All right," Sam snickered as he pulled some more gifts from the pile. "I'll just get her to tell me later."

"No fair you two ganging up on me," Dean pouted yet again, until he caught sight of the gifts that Sam was piling up for him. "Man," he chortled. "I didn't think I was _that_ good this year."

"Dude," Sam grinned, "she's been buying stuff since, like June!" They laughed together again and kept opening gifts.

There were funny stories behind the choices of some, that they just had to share. Dean was thrilled with all the clothes and the music. He was surprised by an entire box set of books and Max explained that they'd bought another set for John for those sleepless nights when television was a dud. They figured that they could trade sets when they were done reading. Sam was happily surprised to see that Dean had gotten them a portable photo printer. Dean explained that he'd priced it out and saw that it was actually cheaper that way, than sending out for pictures. And it was compatible with the camera that he'd given Max for her last birthday, so they could download right to the printer. And then Max had a good laugh over the photo album and accessories that Sam gave her. He told her that he'd already talked to Alli about it before Jess had ever said anything. Max figured out pretty quickly that that was why Alli had kept changing the subject or telling Max that her friend was taking a break until after the holidays. Sam was delighted in the silver chain that Max had hand-linked way back when in her jewelry class. Dean was surprised by the similar chain she'd made for him. Sam told Max that she'd have to show him the entire collection that she'd made. She teased that it was getting larger all the time, as Sam helped her put on the bracelet that he'd bought her to match the pendant from the previous Christmas.

Together, the couple opened the gift from Tasha and her parents. They found that Trish had made on of her handcrafted wooden shadow boxes. They'd filled it with little mementos of Tasha's first birthday and a picture of Sam hugging Max with one arm and holding Tasha with the other at the party. For Tasha's part, her parents must have helped, but her hand prints were all over the box in various colors.

"Oh she must have had so much fun with this," Max smiled.

"An artist in the making," Sam nodded. "I'm glad we got her that table. Maybe she could use it for art projects."

Dean snorted. "I don't see why you two get so excited over someone else's kid. Granted, she's cute, but why don't you two just have your own?" Sam and Max exchanged exasperated glances.

"Because when it's someone else's kid, who eventually gets cranky, whiny or hopped up on sugar, we don't have to deal with it," Max pointed out reasonably. Dean quirked an eyebrow up and mulled that over quickly.

"Good point," he conceded. "Now then? Can we finally get to that gift from Dad? It's driving me nuts."

The couple had deliberately saved it until last, a little hesitant at what the more hidden depths of this gift might signify. Pulling it away from the wall where it was leaning, Sam and Max began unwrapping it together. Dean helped them pull away what seemed like an entire roll of wrapping paper. When she finally saw what the gift was, Max gasped. "Oh my God, Sam, look!" They both stared at the large painting of an ocean scene, mouths agape.

"It's nice," Dean offered, looking at the painting as he wadded up the paper in his hands. He looked from it to them and caught the stupefication on their faces. "What?" he demanded. "I don't get it."

"This is the picture we were looking at a few months ago," Sam told him, his voice thick. "We really liked it, but it was too pricey."

"The next time we were there, it was gone," Max continued. "Somebody else had bought it. Dad... but..."

"How did he know?" Sam muttered and Dean gave an amused chuckle.

"You know, given recent events, it may not seem like it, but he does care about you guys," Dean pointed out.

"So his way of showing he cares is to spy on us?" Sam demanded incredulously. Dean shook his head.

"He doesn't spy Sam. At least I don't think there's a wire tap on your phone. No, he just checks in on ya when he can. He probably saw you guys looking at this and took a chance."

"We did linger over it for quite a while," Max reminded Sam quietly. He nodded, remembering that day in particular.

He and Max had decided to get out of the house for the day. No school, no work and no commitments to meet friends or to babysit. They'd just wandered wherever they'd felt like going, enjoying ice cream cones in the park. They'd leisurely wandered through whatever stores caught their eyes. Had lunch. The art gallery they found after had drawn them both. They'd looked and chatted with the owner and after having looked their fill, moved on. But, like Max had said, they next time they'd stopped at the gallery to look again, the painting they'd liked most was gone, and they hadn't found anything else that they'd liked as much.

Many hours, a delicious turkey dinner and tons of cookies later, Dean was leaving. Both Max and Sam had helped him load up the car. Beside his own presents that he'd received, he was taking all of John's with him. Max had put John's stocking in a plastic bag, in case it tipped over. She'd also made up a platter of turkey sandwiches and a thermos of coffee for later. Before Dean could even ask, she'd removed two huge zipping lock bags from the freezer, full of the assorted cookies that they'd been snacking on that afternoon. And even as these were loaded into the car, she reappeared with an aluminum foil covered paper plate that Dean suspected contained either another slice of pumpkin pie or cinnamon rolls. Judging by the indentation, both.

Finally, after hugs farewell and a promise to drive safely, Dean climbed into the Impala. Before he started the car, he took one more glance at them, standing arm in arm, the tiny spurt of jealousy surging momentarily. They the very epitomy of the picture perfect.


	21. Revelations

Title: What If... Racing Towards Destiny

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Rating: PG-13- R

Genre: Crossover

Type: Romance

Pairing: Max Gueverra/ Sam Winchester

Summary: What if... Max had been having a different dream?

Spoilers/ Time line: This starts when Max is thirteen and going into heat for the very first time.

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first please.

A/N: This story, while being in the same universe as _When It Changes_, does not actually occur within that storyline. This fiction is just an off-shoot of what **might **have happened.

A/N2: I have taken some liberty with Max's back story. I know that the show let us see very specific events during flashback scenes and in a certain order. I have expanded on that, to help string it all together in a way that makes sense to my mind and this story. Hope you enjoy.

**Chapter Twenty-one**

**Revelations**

"I don't like this Max," Sam complained as he absentmindedly pushed his supper around his plate with his fork.

"Neither do I," his girlfriend returned calmly, "but its only for a few weeks, until Hanover can find a replacement for Drew."

"Why'd he quit, anyway?" Sam frowned.

"I don't know," Max sighed, setting down her own utensil. "All I heard from Rita was that there was a bunch of shouting and then Drew walked out."

"You don't have to start tonight, do you?" Sam pursed his lips. Max shook her head in the negative.

"Tomorrow night. Mr. Hanover's taking tonight's shift because it was such short notice."

"Well then, why doesn't he keep working it, instead of sticking you with the shift?" Sam grunted as he finally threw down his fork, making it clang against the dinner plate.

"Because he's my boss," Max told him wryly. "Besides, I'm the only one who has her nights free." Sam's eyebrows rose at that. "Rita's got stuff going on, so does Kara and Hanover's got family obligations."

"And what does that make me?" Sam groused, slumping back in his seat, his arms crossed like a petulant child.

"A very understanding boyfriend," Max shot back hopefully. Sam threw her an annoyed look.

"I'm sorry Max, but it feels like lately, we've barely seen each other. And now with this, it'll be even worse. You'll be gone to work before I get home. I'll be asleep by the time you get home and we'll have what? Half an hour together in the mornings?"

"And weekends," Max pointed out rationally, although she could feel her temper starting to fray. Why on earth was he being so cranky and unreasonable about this? "Sam, Mr. Hanover promised that it would only be for a couple of weeks. I think we can survive that."

"And what if he doesn't find anybody in that time? What then?"

Max rolled her eyes and started toying with her fork, perhaps to keep from pounding her fist on the table in frustration. "Sam, this is a college town and summer has just started. There'll be plenty of people looking for work. He only said two weeks to give himself some breathing room. He could find someone in a matter of days."

"But in the meantime, you're stuck."

"Sam, it's my job!" Max protested plaintively. "I never expected it to be perfect."

"You never expected to be there for more than a few months," Sam offered, slightly snide. "And yet, here you are a year and a half later, still at it."

"And what's wrong with that?" Max cried out.

"Nothing," Sam huffed, rubbing one hand across his forehead. "I'm just saying that I thought you wanted to _do_ something with your life..." he trailed off and Max stared at him, incredulous. Her mouth opened, as if she were going to say something but then snapped it shut. Instead, she pushed her chair back and jumped up from her seat. She stormed off angrily through the kitchen and into the bedroom. Sam jumped up from his seat, realizing in an instant how condescending he was being. He followed after her and met her at the bedroom door. She was carrying her robe and a book. "Max," he sighed, "I wasn't trying to pick a fight with you."

"Really?" she sneered. "Because you were doing a damn good imitation of just that, a moment ago." She stepped past him and down into the bathroom. He would have followed, but the lock clicking into place on the doorknob was a very clear signal that he wasn't welcome. Feeling hurt and rejected and yet, a bit of an ass at the same time, Sam stomped into the bedroom and hurled the door shut.

He laid down on the bed, resolutely determined not to think about her. And as always, that failed. Sam lay there for what seemed like hours, staring at the wall and then the dresser, then the floor and the wall once again. In all their time together, and apart, as a couple, they'd never really had a fight. Disagreements, yes, but they'd never walked away from one another, carrying anger with them as they did. By now, Sam could see where he was in the wrong and he resolved that he would apologize as soon as she emerged.

So instead of continuing to mope because his world wasn't ordered exactly to his liking, he got up to take care of the remains of their meal. He put the leftovers away and then searched the freezer. He smiled when he found the tub of chocolate ice cream. When he heard the water draining, he grabbed that and two spoons and met her in the hallway.

"I'm sorry," he offered quickly, holding the ice cream before him, like a peace offering. "I really didn't mean to belittle what you do Max," he spoke softly and her face relaxed marginally.

"But you were right," she sighed. "I did only mean to be there for a little while. Sometimes I wonder why I still am." Sam held out his hand and she took it. He led her to the living room, where they seated themselves on the sofa. Sam handed Max a spoon and pulled the lid off of the ice cream. He offered it to her and she took a small amount on the tip of her spoon. "I'm sorry," she sighed, continuing the conversation. "I just never saw myself being a clerk for the rest of my life."

"So what do you want to do?" Sam asked quietly as he scooped up some of the dessert as well.

"Max shrugged. "Honestly, I have no clue. Maybe that's why I get into so many hobbies."

Sam chuckled. "Maybe."

"You really don't mind that though, do you?" Max asked earnestly. Sam shrugged, tilting his head a little.

"No, not really," he decided. "I mean, it's not like you get interested in something for a little while and then lose interest. And it's not like they're hobbies that get really messy or take up a whole lot of room with clutter."

"What about the time it takes up?" Max asked slyly and Sam frowned.

"Yeah, it's selfish of me," he admitted sheepishly. "I mean, you never complain when I've got school stuff to do, or I'm busy with studying."

"So maybe we should find a hobby we could do together," Max suggested.

"Like what?" Sam asked, curiously. Max smiled thoughtfully.

"Well, we had fun with that art course. We could maybe find another course to take together that wouldn't tax your current schedule. Or, we could join a gym or sports league," she offered enthusiastically.

"Like what?" Sam laughed, repeating himself as they both spooned up more of the frozen comestible. "Bowling?"

"Mini golf!" Max giggled. She ate the bite off of her spoon and then pointed it at him. "We could always find a way to volunteer together. I mean, that way, we'd be giving back to the community, it would look good on your resume or law school application and we'd have time with one another."

Sam blinked at the mini speech, smirking as he mulled it over. He leaned towards her, a large smile gracing his face. "Have I told you lately how brilliant you are?"

Max shook her head sadly," ah, with only the barest of moments to spend together, the discussion of my genius has been woefully ignored."

"Ha ha," Sam smiled good-naturedly, pushing at her knee. "You know," he murmured," it's not so much the time together we're having..." he trailed off and Max caught the apprehension on his face.

"So what is it sweetie?" she asked softly, encouragingly. Sam exhaled slowly, wondering how exactly to phrase his concerns without upsetting her. Truth was best and it was all he could do.

"Max," he began," I know that you can take care of yourself. I mean, I can't count the number of times you've proved that. But... I still..."

Max waited for the words that she knew he was struggling to form. "You still what?"

"I just don't like you working that late, having to make the bank deposit," Sam finally admitted outright and was very much surprised to see that Max was smiling. "What?"

"Well," she chuckled, "it's just... no one could really accuse you of... cave man sensibilities," she muttered through her grin. Sam gave her an amused, slightly annoyed look.

"Cave man?"

"Well you know," she shrugged. "You man! Take care of weak woman!"

"I never said that!" he protested.

"But do you deny you feel it?" Max asked quickly and knew she'd caught him out. "Ah ha!"

Sam flushed belatedly and grunted. "It's not that... exactly," he allowed, shrugging one shoulder. "I just worry that something might happen, and I wouldn't be there to help you," he explained awkwardly.

"Okay," Max allowed as she reached for more ice cream. "That's valid. Most especially since I worry about you too."

"Really?" Sam smirked, relieved that she hadn't exploded in anger. "I didn't think I was living that dangerously."

Max smiled. "Okay," she explained, "not about what you do, but what might happen to you."

"What might happen?" Sam repeated, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"Yeah," Max nodded, not oblivious to his amusement, but ignoring it. "See, you I trust. But the other 99.99999 etcetera percent of the population that inhabits this world? Not so much."

"And what did they do to earn your ire?"

"Well," Max chuckled, getting into the spirit of things, "there are idiots out there who cause car accidents through general stupidity, morons who take it in their head to go on shooting rampages. And then there are all those Monique's and Ronnie's who could kidnap you just to have their wicked way with you." Sam laughed heartily.

"But you would come rescue me, wouldn't you?"

"Actually," Max eyes began to sparkle, "I'd probably have to insist on some preventative measures to keep it from ever happening."

"Like what?" he demanded huskily, eagerly, recognizing the growing lust in her eyes.

"I just might have to tie you up in our bed and have my way with you over and over again until you're of absolutely no use to any other woman."

Sam's eyes darkened as he inhaled deeply. He'd never thought that he was the type to get into anything... kinky and by most standards this was tame stuff. But the thought of Max being completely in charge, of her dominating him, was darkly erotic. But was she serious?

"You know," he drawled, "I'd say that's a pretty good plan. Only thing is..."

"Is what?"

"Well you know what they say? Practice makes perfect."

"Why, I do believe you're right," Max grinned as she stood and reached for his hand.

Sam heard the motorcycle engine, roaring into the quiet of the neighborhood and breathed a sigh of relief. Ever since the clock had turned over, hitting midnight and beyond, he'd been fretting. There was no other word for it. He kept telling himself that nothing would happen to her. It would take a little time for Max to get the tills counted out and in order. To prepare the deposit, to lock up the store, take the money to the nightly bank deposit and then drive home. He tried to imagine doing just these things. But perhaps he was thinking it out too quickly, when she wasn't home when he had hoped she would be. He tried distracting himself in other ways, but he knew he'd be a hopeless case until she actually arrived at their house.

When he heard the engine cut out, he climbed out of their bed and headed out to the foyer to meet her. He squinted once against the sharp glare of the hall light that he'd left on for her. She came in, shutting the front porch light off and then took off her coat.

"Hey," Sam greeted softly as he moved towards her.

"Hey Sam," she returned softly. She moved to embrace him before she shut the closet door. "What are you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep without you," Sam murmured pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Everything go okay?"

"About what I expected," she shrugged. "You really should get some sleep."

"I will," he promised. "You coming to bed?"

"Yeah," Max nodded. "I'll be there in a just a minute."

Sam left her at the bathroom and headed back to the suddenly cozy and inviting bed he'd left just minutes ago. She was there as quickly as she promised, changing into a long t-shirt to sleep in. Sam held the covers back for her as she climbed into her side of the bed. She gave him a lingering kiss goodnight before rolling over onto her side, facing away from him. Sam wasted no time in snuggling up as closely as he could to her as she reached for the book she was currently reading. She had left it last on the nightstand, in preparation for this evening. Sam wrapped his arm around her middle and she rested her own on top of his. His thumb stroked across her ribs as he tilted his head to the side to nuzzle at her neck, inhaling deeply, the lingering scent of soap on her skin. She gave a low murmur, but that was all. Sam grinned wolfishly, aware that he was really going to have to get her attention. With a playful growl, he snatched the book away from her hand and threw it behind him.

"Sam!" she protested, though he could hear the laughter in her voice. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to get your attention," he told her as he shifted his hips against the curve of her buttocks.

"Okay, I get the point," she muttered and rolled over to face him. "And this is why you can't sleep?"

Sam nodded and bent his head to nip at her earlobe.

"You're going to be cranky in the morning," she warned.

"Like anyone is going to notice," Sam grunted in reply. "Remember, I'm just the low man on the totem pole at work."

"Yes, but if they do happen to notice you," Max sighed as his lips trailed down to her collar bone, "it'd be nice if you had a smile on your face, rather than that fearsome scowl."

"Well, I promise that I'll just think of you all day long," he teased, pushing one hand under the hem of her long shirt as he traced a path over her thigh. "That always puts a smile on my face."

He didn't progress any further, waiting, like a gentleman to see how his advances were really being received, gaging if she were interested or if she really did want to get some sleep.

"You always say the sweetest things," Max murmured. "How could I resist you?" She caught his face between her hands and pressed her lips to his. Sam pulled the hem of her shirt up another scant inch and was rewarded with a shift of her body closer to his and a small foot tickling a caress up his shin. He sighed contentedly. How could he be grumpy tomorrow when he was blessed with something so wonderful in the here and now?

Max pulled the front door of the convenience store shut and locked the deadbolt on it. The last customer, a teen aged boy had just left with his middle of the night munchies. Max, who'd had few enough customers that evening, that she'd been able to keep a running count, figured the cash-out would go pretty quick. The one thing Hanover liked about her was that her tills were always correct. Rita always made snide remarks and little comments about how Max must make up the difference out of her own pocket and skimmed the extra when she was over. Max just let that slide. Company policy allowed fifty cents either way and Max knew that Rita's till was wildly off the mark on many occasions.

But she hummed to herself as she counted out the money. Hanover had left a note for her, letting her know that he'd hired a young man that day. Max would train him the next evening and if he managed well, the shift would be his alone. And Hanover was sure the guy would work out okay. He'd done the night shift at a gas station the previous summer and had good references. Max grinned, happy that she didn't have to worry about pumping gas as well. That math, separate from store business, might have provided a mental challenge.

As she'd figured, her totals were on and she prepared the back deposit and slipped the till floats into the safe in the office before shutting it and locking it. Because of the ease of the evening, she'd been able to keep on top of the cleaning, so she was able to get out of there earlier than she normally would have. She checked to make sure that she had everything she needed and headed out the back door to the alley way where her Ninja was parked. She set the alarm and moved through the shadows.

Max swore and then laughed suddenly when she saw the rear tire on the Ninja was flat. Right then, working at a gas station would have been handy. With a resigned sigh, she tucked the bank deposit bag into the inner pocket of her jean jacket and pulled out her cell phone. She dialed their home phone and wasn't surprised when it wasn't answered. She next dialed Sam's cell, knowing that he would be keeping it near him until she was home. It took a little time before he answered.

'Yeah?" he answered, sounding slightly groggy.

"Hey baby," Max greeted softly. "Did I wake you up?"

"Mm, no," Sam replied through an obvious yawn. "I was just kind of dozing on the couch, waiting for you." Max chuckled, he'd been sound asleep for sure. "Is everything okay?"

"It's all good," she sighed, "except for one little, tiny thing."

"What'd that be?"

"My bike has a flat," she informed him. "I hate to ask, but-!"

"I'll be right there," Sam broke in, sounding much more alert now. She could hear him fumbling around.

"Thank you sweetie," she smiled.

"No problem," he replied and she could hear the door shutting on his end.

"I have some good news," she continued to talk to him as she leaned against the back outer wall of the store.

"What's that?" Sam asked.

"Mr. Hanover hired a kid for the night shift," Max informed him.

"That's excellent news," Sam enthused. "So is this your last night then?"

"Almost," Max chuckled. "Hanover wants me to train him tomorrow night and then I'll be back to my regular shift."

"Well that's better than we'd thought it might be," Sam sounded relieved. "And that means we'll have all weekend together."

"You know it," Max chuckled. "So what do we want to do? Go out with some friends? Romantic candlelit dinner?"

"Stay in bed all weekend," Sam demanded with a laugh.

"Maybe go catch that new movie," Max continued to tease. "Oh, we could go out to the lake?"

"Stay in bed," Sam repeated.

"Lake! Bikini!" she giggled.

"Bed! Naked!" he countered.

"Or we could stay in bed all weekend," Max laughed outright.

"See? I knew you'd see things my way," Sam chuckled, his mind racing with thoughts of a definitely enjoyable weekend facing them. Unintentionally, his foot pressed a little harder on the gas pedal before he realized it and checked the speedometer. He certainly didn't need a ticket just because he was eager to see his girl.

"Uh huh," Max murmured. "I really could hibernate for a few days ."

"My plan exactly," Sam chortled, recognizing the teasing for what it was.

"Yeah right," Max started to retort. "I-!" She broke off suddenly and Sam waited patiently for her to continue. But there was nothing but silence coming from her end and Sam wondered if Max's cell phone had perhaps died.

"Max?"

"Sam, I'll call you back," she announced abruptly and then there really was nothing.

Sam, puzzled and more than just a little worried, snapped his own phone shut. This time, pressing his foot harder on the accelerator was most definitely deliberate. As he drove through the streets, he constantly checked his phone, waiting for her to call. Finally he turned down the street where the store was located, scanning the sidewalk for any sign of his girlfriend. Pulling into the parking lot, all he could see were the front store lights. Shutting off the car, Sam hurriedly climbed out, eyes scanning everywhere. And as he did so, the distinct sounds of a scuffle could be heard from the alleyway on the far side of the store and further in the distance the droning wail of police sirens. Sam hurried toward the alleyway, his heart pounding, when a gunshot rang out. His heart stopped beating and seemed to leap up suddenly into his throat.

Ducking low, he ran towards the alley, a desperate prayer on his lips. The caution instilled from a lifetime of training kept him from running headlong into the alley. Crouching at the corner he peered around the corner to take stock of the situation as quickly as he could. His heart leapt with joy as he heard Max's voice, strong and sure and then the answering reply of a male. Wishing desperately that he had a weapon of his own, Sam slid into the alleyway unnoticed. The scene came together in his eyes but his mind just couldn't assimilate it. Two bodies lying prone on the ground, another guy aiming a gun at his girlfriend. Before Sam could even gasp, the trigger was pulled, but Max was gone, moving so fast she seemed to blur. The guy seemed surprised, as was Sam, watching as Max's attacker kept the gun extended. He snapped off another round that she avoided by… running… across… a… wall! Sam just couldn't grasp what was happening as Max got behind the guy and with a series of lightning quick blows, had disarmed the guy and knocked him out cold.

As if from far away, Sam heard the police sirens and several car doors slamming. The lights of the police cars that had arrived in response to whoever had called in a report, bathed the first ten feet of the alleyway in rotating blue and red ambiance. And it may have been a trick of the light, but Sam didn't think it was, but Max had fear written all over her face as she stared at him. It was etched into every inch of her. And as Sam heard and obeyed the police officer's directive to freeze and put his hands up, he realized that the fear hadn't come until she'd seen him.

Numbly, his mind whirling, he automatically answered the officer's questions. His name was Sam Winchester, his wallet was in his right jacket pocket with his driver's license inside. He had no weapons or paraphernalia on him and he was here because his girlfriend had called him, needing a ride home from work. Yes, he'd heard the gunshots, but no, he… hadn't seen anything. He didn't know how long passed as one officer covered him while another ran his identification. He turned his head to watch the same thing happening to Max at the other end of the alley. Some other officers dealt with the three men that she'd disarmed and knocked out. The officer talking to Max, called out to another, asking him to check the motorcycle. The man did and found, from what Sam heard, that the tire had been slashed. A concealed switchblade, found on one of the toughs, helped along Max's case. And right after that, the officer running their id's returned and informed them all that the pair had checked out and that the store owner had verified his employee and her boyfriend.

The officer handed Sam's license back to him and headed over to Max. Straining to hear, Sam heard that the three men that had attacked Max, matched the description for suspects in several other robberies in the area. All three had warrants out on them. It was theorized that they'd been casing the store and getting a feel for Max's routine. Too bad for them that she was a black belt in martial arts. Time seemed to slow down and speed up as Sam tried to keep up with what was going on around him and at the same time, create order out of his chaotic thoughts. Finally, the officer, after assuring that Sam and Max could come into the station to relate, verify and sign statements, in the morning, allowed them to leave the scene.

Sam turned away from the alley, ducking under yellow police tape that had seemed to spring up from nowhere and headed for the car, his license still held loosely in his hand. As he reached the driver's side, he pulled out his wallet to replace it. Idly, he realized that he'd left the keys in the ignition. He pulled open the door and from the corner of his eye saw Max approaching him warily. Feeling nauseous, he gripped the top of the door and watched her approach, with caution screaming at him. Her face was tight and that fear was back. When she reached the far side of the car she waited a moment before she asked softly, "are we going?"

Sam could feel every nerve in his body tighten as he choked out in a whisper, "what the hell are you?"

It was Max's turn to look and seem ill. She glanced once over her shoulder at the officers swarming the area. "Not here," she shook her head. "Not now. Can we please just go?" Sam shook his head, feeling as if he were swimming in a tub of gelatin. Everything was muted and surreal. Max sighed heavily as fear was joined by pain. "Sam," she whispered, "if I'd wanted to hurt you, I've had nearly a decade to do so. Why would I now?"

Sam stared at her, mulling it over. Obviously, he was not a threat to whatever she was. And she did not seem to be trying to hide the truth that he was so close to, just trying to delay it. What she'd said was true, on the surface, but Sam knew better than most not to trust that. But in all those years past, he'd never known that she was this different, that she was hiding things inconceivable from him. Watching him, she must have seen the indecision on his face and her chin dropped and then she glanced away. Sam looked in the same direction as she, seeing still the various personnel called upon to deal with this situation. It would look horribly wrong to abandon the woman who was supposed to be his girlfriend after an experience like this. Even though said so called woman was the one who'd triumphed, overcoming three to one odds with weapons involved.

"Get in," he muttered lowly as he lowered himself into the driver's seat. She complied, her movements stiff. Sam started the car and maneuvered them out of the parking lot. He drove mechanically, heading towards home, because it was the only place that he could think of, to go home.

But after a few blocks, Max hesitantly reminded him, "Sam? I still have to make the night deposit." His eyes flickered toward her momentarily and saw the zippered pouch on her lap.

"Right," he muttered and slowed down. He knew that she'd told him which bank it was before, eons ago it seemed, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember. So he listened to her softly spoken directions and once he pulled up to the bank, he pulled in at the curb. Max climbed out of the car, leaving her door open and swiftly made the deposit. She climbed back into the vehicle and as she pulled the door shut, she turned to face him.

"You know," she spoke defensively, "I'm pretty sure there's a church somewhere around here. You can stock up on everything you need to protect yourself. Maybe I can take a holy water bath in the baptismal font. Would that help ease your mind?" Sam's eyes flickered towards her once more, his jaw aching from being clenched so tightly. He ignored the taunt, precisely because he'd been vaguely thinking along those very same lines. But instead of replying, he simply continued driving. Once home, he parked, climbed out and headed straight for the house. Max followed, trailing slowly after him. He left the door open for her and when she entered their home and shut the door behind her, he finally exploded.

"Are you going to answer my question now?" he demanded angrily. Max's eyes flickered to him as she removed her jean jacket.

"Which one?" she asked archly. "I'm sure you have hundreds."

"What the hell are you?" he snarled, the words rapped out in a low staccato beat.

"Human… mostly," she replied sincerely and then she rolled her eyes at the apprehension on his face. "you need to quit thinking stranger than fiction Sam."

"So sorry," Sam scowled. "Obviously I'm a little out of my depths. So what are we talking about?"

"Science fiction," Max told him quietly, all joking aside. The scowl on his face deepened. Max moved into the living room and laid her jacket over the arm of the couch.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he demanded, following her. Max sat down, her movements stiff and jerky and ran one hand over her eyes.

"Sam, sit down," she directed softly, but he just shook his head.

"Not until you tell me," he barked out.

"Fine," she frowned. "I'm a transgenic super soldier, created in a lab by the good folks at Manticore, which happens to be a black ops division of the Army. Does that answer satisfy you?" Sam felt weak in the knees. One thing rang through his mind.

"Manticore?" he repeated. "Like the…"

"Sam," Max scowled, "do you really think that if I was some evil creature, I could have been around all the things we did and not been affected? Do you really think I could have-!"

"Okay, I get it," he waved his hand in front of himself, cutting her off. "But that name? I've seen it before."

"In Dad's journal," Max confirmed and Sam's eyes darkened.

"Dad knows?" Max shook her head. "No, he doesn't and neither does Dean. You're the… first." Sam closed his eyes, trying to remember what his father had written about the elusive subject.

"He thought it was military code for something," he finally recalled.

"And he was right," Max sighed softly.

"A black ops division," Sam repeated. "I get that. But… transgenic?" Max took a slow deep breath, chewing on her lower lip.

"They were trying to create a stronger human," Max finally began to explain as gently as she could. "Physical training could only do so much. So they decided to start much earlier."

"Before birth?" Sam clarified, his eyes darkening as Max nodded.

"Geneticists tampered with our DNA, slicing in what they could from… elsewhere."

"What do you mean? Elsewhere?" Sam demanded. "You said mostly human."

"Animals," she provided quietly. "They isolated certain desirable traits from animals and spliced them into our genome." Sam stared at her, horrified. He finally sank down to the sofa, shaking his head in bewilderment.

"This is impossible," he murmured.

"Well, since I'm right here, alive and well, it's obviously not," she retorted.

"Animals?" Sam repeated, his eyes darting to her face. "Like?"

"Feline," she answered promptly. "We all had that. And there were some others. Can't say exactly, we weren't told. But Jondy and I always thoughts we had shark DNA, since we didn't need to sleep as much as everyone else."

"Shark DNA?" Sam repeated helplessly, his head falling back against the couch. "This can't be real," he grunted. "This is just…"

"Unbelievable?" Max asked softly, sounding a little hurt. "Yeah, I suppose if I were hearing this for the first time, but Sam… this is my life."

"No," he sighed. "It's… how is this possible? That scientists are…?"

"It's the government Sam," Max scoffed. "Genetic science has been a growing field for decades. Naturally the government would tap the best and brightest. And with unlimited budgets and facilities, who knows how far things can go."

"But to do this?" Sam demanded. "Where to they get off…?" he cut his rant short, as if realizing that this wasn't the time. He turned his head to stare at her, feeling like he was looking at a stranger. "Why didn't you tell us?" he demanded softly.

"I…" Max began and then moistened her lips. "There were a lot of reasons," she admitted. "At first, it was a secret that I couldn't tell. Something ingrained since birth. And then, I was scared. When I found out what you guys do…" She swallowed heavily. "When we ran into those snake things, I had no… outside reference to place these things in."

"They were new to me too," Sam admitted, turning in his seat to face her. Now that some of the shock was wearing off, he could feel his curiosity growing.

"But you had some idea of what it could be," Max continued. "For me, the only thing I could think of, was that they were snake people, that maybe Manticore had made them too. And when Dad and Dean killed them…" her head bowed and Sam felt a chill run through him. He reached out and pushed a tendril of hair behind her ear.

"You were afraid the same thing would happen to you if we knew?" It wasn't exactly a question, but she nodded anyways. "But what about after you figured things out?"

"I did try," she smiled sadly. "Remember that day, the first time I had a seizure around you guys?" Sam frowned, recalling that long ago day she was referring to.

"Oh my God," he murmured and gave a shocked laugh. "You did try, but Dad…"

"Didn't want to hear about that," Max concluded.

"And you made it all out to be a joke," Sam nodded. "Okay, but why not later?"

"Because it was safer," Max told him, her eyes haunted.

"Safer how?" Sam whispered, worried at the direction of this conversation. Max shrugged.

"What you didn't know, you couldn't tell."

"Tell?" Sam repeated. "Who would I tell?"

"Any of the dozen different operatives that have been hunting me down for the past decade," Max replied seriously, startling Sam. She made a disgruntled noise, as if she shouldn't have to piece it all together for him. "Sam, the government put millions of dollars into creating me. Do you really think they'd just let me walk away?"

"But you're a person in your own right," Sam protested automatically, but Max was shaking her head.

"Not to them, I wasn't. I was just a science experiment."

"But-!"" Sam tried to protest again, but she had turned her face away from him. It was hard for him to take in and equally obvious hard for her to discuss. "Is that why you stayed with us when we asked you to?" Sam asked softly. Max nodded shakily.

"You guys were constantly on the move," she reasoned. "And fitting in with you guys was easier than a normal family."

"We always figured you came form a military background," Sam chuckled without humor. "Just never imagined that this was why you fell in with Dad's gung-ho ways so easily."

"It was familiar," she agreed with a sad smile. "And yet strange at the same time. That when you messed up, you just got lectured. It was a lot different… back there."

"How different?" Sam whispered. They'd always assumed that Max had been abused as a child. It was something she never talked about. But because she'd seemed so well adjusted, they'd never pushed the issue and somehow, the idea had been pushed to the back of heir minds and all but forgotten.

"It depended," Max offered vaguely and gave a small shudder. "Sometimes it was physical labor, extra laps, sometimes isolation. The worst was when they punished other members of your unit instead of you."

"But you were just kids," Sam cried out helplessly.

"No we weren't!" Max snapped back. "Not to them. We were experiments, animals. Soldiers in training!"

"Training for what?" he demanded and she threw him a scathing look. "Training for what?" he repeated. "For war? For defending the country? What!" She turned her face away from him, looking sick. "Oh my God," Sam whimpered, feeling nauseous himself. "They were training you to kill, weren't they?" She nodded quickly and jerkily. Sam's vision blurred as his stomach roiled. "Please.. tell me… " Her face flashed to his, tears streaming down her face. "My God… you killed someone?" Her chin jerked at the accusation couched as a question and Sam didn't need her to confirm the horrible thought because he could read the truth of it in her face. But he just couldn't accept this. He pushed himself off the sofa, unable to sit there, to hear this.

"Was it self defense?" he demanded pleadingly. It took a moment, but she finally shook her head in the negative. Sam continued to grasp at the only other viable option. "Were you ordered to?" Max lifted her face to stare at him.

"No," she told him quietly, guilt shadowing her face. "The first time was-!"

"The first time!" he echoed, bile actually rising in his throat this time. "How many people have you killed?" he whispered, unconsciously backing away form her. Max saw this and flinched.

"Sam, it's not what you think. There were reasons-!"

"Reasons!" he shouted. "There is no justifiable reason for murder!"

"Sam," Max cried, standing up as well. But one step forward and Sam backed away further from this woman who was now a stranger to him. Whirling around, he headed for the front door. Max followed after him and caught his arms as he reached the front door. "Sam?" What are-!"

"Let go of me!" he snarled. Startled, Max let loose of him, tears still streaming freely.

"Please don't," she whimpered and Sam shook his head.

"Get away from me. I can't…" he swallowed heavily, lifting his face to meet her gaze, his eyes now just as haunted as hers. "I can't be with a murderer." He ignored her pained gasp as he fled from the house.

John was woken by the ringing chirp of a cell phone. Blinking rapidly, he turned his head and saw that Dean had left his phone on the nightstand. "Dean," he rumbled and his only answer was a snore. Rolling his eyes, John snagged the phone, ready to tell off whatever little bimbo was calling for waking him up. Until he realized that it was his son calling. Remembering the last late night phone call Dean had received from his brother set John's heart to pounding as he answered. "Sam?"

"Dad?" his son mumbled. "Thought I called Dean."

"You did," John confirmed as he climbed out of bed, glancing at his watch. It was almost 2 o'clock in the morning. "He's sleeping. Are you okay?"

"Me?" Sam snorted. "'m fine." John nudged Dean's shoulder, but there was no response.

"Is Max okay?" was his next question. He smacked Dean's shoulder and his son came awake with a grunt, his hand automatically sliding under the pillow his head rested on as his body tensed.

"She's fine," Sam mumbled. "better than fine. She's apparently super. She's superwoman! I wonder if she can fly. Maybe she can if she's part animal. I forgot to ask." John scowled at his son's rambling.

"Sam, you're not making any sense." Dean's eyes widened as he scrambled upright.

"Or maybe she's cat woman," Sam continued his rhetoric. "That's why cats like her so much. 'Cause she's one of them."

"Sam?" John frowned as Dean silently asked with elegantly arched eyebrows, what was going on. John shook his head. "Are you drunk?"

"No!" came the immediate denial and then, "maybe. Just a little." John sighed and rubbed a tired hand over weary eyes.

"Sammy, where is Max?"

"At home," his son answered quietly and there was something in his tone that made John's stomach clench. "I left her…"

"You what?" John snapped in surprise. "Sammy what the hell is going on?" He waved away Dean's concern for the moment, trying to listen.

"Dad," Sam whispered and John pressed the phone against his ear harder. "She killed people Dad. I don't know… what to do." John sucked in a shocked breath.

"No," he breathed out a automatic denial. "No," it was stronger this time. "Max wouldn't do that."

"She did Dad," Sam's voice sounded defeated and John suspected he was crying or the very next thing to it. "She told me so herself."

"No, no," John shook his head. "That's not… Start at the beginning son. What happened?" He snapped his fingers at Dean and pointed to his jacket, and mouthed the words 'call Max' to him. Dean nodded and hurried to do his father's bidding.

"She had to work late tonight," Sam recounted slowly. "She called me 'cause her tire was flat. But someone slashed it. They tried to rob her and… it doesn't matter Dad. She's a killer. A murderer. What she was trained to do." John scowled again, trying to make sense of that statement. Was Sam trying to tell him that Max's attackers had been possessed? He shook his head. "Dad… I can't…" John could hear the desperate plea in his child's voice.

"We're coming Sammy," he announced, suddenly anxious, glad that he'd let Dean talk him into this California job they'd just finished. "We're not far. Where are you?"

"A bar," Sam answered, his voice tired and worn out.

"Okay, let me talk to the bartender." He glanced at Dean, who shook his head.

"She's not answering the phone," Dean announced quietly.

"Try her cell phone so that she knows its us," John directed and pulled the cell phone up to his mouth. As Dean resolutely dialed Max again, John instructed the bartender to get his son in a cab and send him home.. The bartender was a little concerned, but John promised that his son's girlfriend would be there to care for him. Dean received no answer again and left a terse 'call me!' on her voice mail.

"What the hell's going on Dad?" Dean demanded as John hung up and began gather his clothes to dress. Dean followed suit.

"Sammy said some punks tried to rob Max tonight, probably after work." He stilled and swallowed, not meeting his son's gaze. "He said she killed them."

"Oh fuck!" Dean spat out, closing eyes for a moment. "Son of a bitch."

"Exactly," John agreed. "We need to go now. But keep trying her cell. She might talk to you." He waited a moment until Dean had gotten his shirt on before he tossed his son's cell phone to him. Dean caught it and dialed Max again, pulling on his boots while he listened to the ringing. It took a while but it was finally answered.

"Dean?" came a familiar voice, but it wasn't Max's. "Thank God you called!"

"Jess?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Is Max there?"

"Yeah, she showed up here about an hour ago, looking for a place to crash. Do you know what's going on?" the woman asked. "Because all I could get out of Max was that she and Sam had a massive fight and he walked out on her."

"Damn it," Dean swore under his breath. "Yeah, Sam called, apparently drunk off his ass and not making any sense. Let me talk to Max and see If we can figure out what the hell is going on."

"If you can understand her," Jess told him wryly. "She's been crying nonstop since she got here." There were some, muffled noises that Dean ignored as together he and John carried their bags out to the Impala. Finally Max came on the line.

"Dean?" Jess was right. Her voice was thick with tears.

"Maxie, what the hell is going on?" he demanded softly. "Sam called and said there was a robbery-!"

"Oh, right," she gasped as if suddenly remembering the fact. John had automatically gotten into the driver's seat so that his son wouldn't be driving distracted.

"He said you killed them." Dean continued on relentlessly.

"Oh no," Max cried out. "No! I didn't Dean. I just… knocked them out. And one of them had a gun."

"So you didn't kill them?" Dean clarified and both men felt a weight life off their chests. "Were you hurt?

"No," Max answered in a tiny voice.

"So then what the hell was Sammy talking about?" Dean demanded, confused.

"I… can't," she sobbed.

"Max," Dean sighed, "why is Sam drinking and why are you at Jess'?"

"We…"

"You what? Had a fight?" Dean tried to figure it out. "Max you need to go home and work this out with Sam."

"I can't," Max cried.

"Yes you can," Dean soothed. "Just-!"

"I can't," she insisted. "Dean, he doesn't want me there. He doesn't want… me."

"Max," Dean growled, thumping his head back against the seat's head rest. But he knew how stubborn both his siblings were. "Fine. We're on our way. Should be there in an hour or so."

"Okay," Max sniffled. "Dean," she whispered. "I'm sorry." But before he could ask her what for, she'd hung up. He shut his phone off and he and John discussed the most recent family drama.

Sam wasn't sure what woke him. If it was the blaring headache, the sun glaring through his eyelids or the noise level in the house. Whatever it was, he wasn't happy with it. He turned his head, wincing at the pain in his head and neck and at the scratchy material beneath his cheek. He chanced opening his eyes again and recognized the coffee table, just about at his eye level. He wondered for a moment why he'd fallen asleep on the couch, but the memories of the previous evening surfaced in his mind and he groaned. Maybe it was all a dream. But no, the lingering nastiness in his mouth attested to the memory of heading to the nearest bar after he'd run away from Max. From what she…

"Mornin' sunshine!" Sam's eyes popped open again and he groaned once more and squinted up. His brother's face stared down at him for a moment and then leaned over to place a mug of coffee and a bottle of aspirin on the table

"Dean?" Sam rasped out. "What're you doing here?"

"Oh," his brother drawled as he moved to take a seat on the sofa opposite Sam. "So you don't remember calling me at two in the morning?"

"I did?"

Dean nodded. "Yup. Then you talked to Dad. And I suppose you don't remember us getting here and finding you about two steps from alcohol poisoning?"

"Dad's here?" Sam moaned, cautiously looking around.

"Not now," Dean sighed. "Right now he's trying to find out from Max what the hell happened. Because the only thing your stories have in common is that you walked out on her."

"Dean," Sam groaned again as he rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes. "I can't…"

"No!" Dean's voice rang out authoritatively. "No more bullshit Sammy. You don't tell us that she's killing people and then not explain where the hell this is all coming from."

"I told you that?" Sam whispered.

"You told Dad," Dean confirmed, "and you told me right before you decided to regurgitate your guts." Sam frowned. How much had he told his brother in a drunken delirium? Obviously very little, judging by Dean's agitation. Sam reached for the aspirin and shook two tablets out of the bottle and cautiously swallowed them down with a gulp of the hot coffee.

"Of course," Dean continued, his face grim and set. "Max said that she only knocked those guys out last night. So you can see why things aren't gelling for me here?"

"Did she say anything else?" Sam asked, just as grim, If not more so.

"Just that she was sorry." Dean shrugged. "Whatever the hell that means."

"Oh! She's sorry!," Sam laughed dryly. "Sorry she did it? Or sorry we found out?"

"Found out what?" Dean demanded, leaning forward.

"I already told you Dean," Sam snarled, throwing an angry glare in his brother's direction. "And I'm not talking about last night." Dean stared at Sam, hard. He inhaled deeply.

"Okay, so at some point, Max killed someone?" he grunted. "She probably had a hell of a good reason."

"There's no good reason for murder Dean," Sam snorted.

"Really?" Dean growled. "Because I can think of four right off hand." Sam's eyebrows furrowed at this unexpected side of his brother. Dean held up one hand and counted them off. "You, dad, Max… myself."

"It wasn't self defense Dean," Sam sighed. "And it wasn't just one."

"So what was it?" Dean demanded equanimically. Sam shrugged. "You don't know?" Dean asked incredulously. "Jesus Sammy! You know, you really need to step down of this friggin' pedestal of moral purity you've put yourself on. Because if you don't and you keep pushing away everybody who's ever made a mistake, then you're the one who's going to have a life of emptiness." Sam flushed as Dean turned Sam's long ago accusations back on him. Dean shook his head wearily. "You know, this all boils down to one thing."

"What's that?" Sam demanded curiously.

"Do you love her?" Sam's eyes flickered towards his brother and then away again.

"Dean," he began to protest feebly.

"Simple question dude," Dean chuckled. "Do you love her?" Sam stared down at his hands, dangling between his knees as his elbows braced on his thighs. The question echoed around his mind. The shock of discovering something so horrific about Max had overridden everything the night before. But deep down… yes. He nodded slowly.

"Yeah, Dean, I still love her." The admission seemed to light the room somehow and Dean's expression as well.

"So work it out," his brother directed. "You owe her at least the chance to tell you what really happened. And after that… well, whatever."

"Whatever?" Sam snorted. Dean shrugged.

"Can't make you accept something you're so totally against. I'm not going to bang my head against that wall."

Sam considered that. Dean had made it perfectly clear that he would go to those lengths to protect his family and himself. Would Sam, under extreme circumstances, do the same? Would he kill someone to keep his family safe? He had the disquieting feeling that if it came down to matters of survival, and he had no other choice, he might just go that far. Between the choices of killing someone or losing someone he loved because he chose not to act… It dawned on Sam that right at this moment, he was running the risk of losing Max.

"Where is she?" he finally asked. Dean jerked his head towards the main window.

"She's been sitting out in the car with Dad for the last hour or so." Sam looked automatically noting the Impala at the curb.

"Has she?"

"Dad picked her up from Jess' this morning," Dean explained. "He ran her down to the police station, so she could give her statement. They're expecting you to come in this afternoon. She also called the lawyer's office that you've been temping at and explained that you needed a day to deal with the robbery, so they're not expecting you to come in until tomorrow. Then they took her bike to get the rear tire replaced and now, she's just sittin' outside with Dad in the car," Dean paused for pointed emphasis, "to see if she needs to start packin'."

Sam frowned, his heart clenching at that last thought. "Maybe we better talk first," Sam decided, the words slipping out unbidden. Dean nodded and pushed himself to his feet.

"All right. Good boy," he grinned. Sam scowled as Dean picked up his jacket. "I'm gonna drive Dad back to pick up his truck. But we'll be in the area for a while, I guess." Sam knew that was the closest Dean would ask him for a reassuring call that everything was fine. Sam stood up as well, and followed his brother to the front door, leaning against the arch wall.

"So I really called Dad?" he asked softly.

"You called me," Dean corrected as he pulled the front door open. "And he got us moving the moment he knew that there was trouble."

Dean left his brother with that thought and headed down the porch and walkway. He nodded at Max, who was waiting and then began to cautiously climb out of the car. She left the door open for him and John leaned over so that he could hear what was going on. "He wants to talk," Dean announced.

Max chewed on her lower lip before quietly asking, "what did he tell you?"

"Nothing more than he said last night," Dean shrugged awkwardly. "Whatever else is between you two. He still loves you enough to keep your secrets. He wouldn't have said anything this morning if I hadn't first." He paused for a moment. "and I'm assuming you had good reasons?"

Max glanced away. "I don't know that they were good, but yes, there were reasons." Dean pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Dad can tell you," she added and he nodded.

"Okay," Dean sighed, reaching out one arm to her, unable to miss the way her body tensed and then realized when she realized that he was only trying to hug her. "You need to talk, you call me. You know I'll listen," he told her, holding her tightly. He felt her nod and let her loose.

Squaring her shoulders, she gave him a tight smile and began the short trek up to the house. She didn't notice that they waited until she was completely in the house before they left. Max shut the door behind her and walked into the living room. She waited in the archway, her eyes drinking in every aspect of her boyfriend, sitting on the sofa, resolutely staring at the coffee cup on the table before him. Max cleared her throat, but he didn't look up, so he was aware that she was there and choosing not to look at her.

"Dean said that you wanted to talk," she offered, but that got no response. "Unless you just told him that to get him to leave you alone. So if that's the case, I'll just grab some clothes and get out of your way." That startled him. His head snapped up, panic in his eyes.

"No!" he protested and then glanced away and then back down to the floor. "When I said talk, I think I meant, you talk and I shut up and listen until you're through."

"Oh," Max gave a small, tense smile. She moved into the living room and took a cautious seat on the edge of the sofa. "I suppose you want to know the actually reason why I killed those two men."

Sam's head snapped up again. "Two?" he repeated. Max nodded.

"Just two," she confirmed. "And no women or children."

"I suppose that's a relief," Sam muttered. Max stared down at her hands, each clasping the other in some way.

"Hmm, maybe the second would be easier to understand for you." Sam just waited in silence. "Remember when I told you last night that Manticore had operatives looking to recapture me?" Sam nodded. "Well, when we were in Los Angeles, buying Den's birthday gift, one of the guards who worked in Wyoming, saw me. He caught sight of my bar code. I recognized him as well. Kind of hard not to when he spent six years screaming in my face. Anyway, we were about ready to head home. We were having coffee when I saw him. When we left, I told you that I had forgotten my wallet. I doubled back and found him. He was talking to Lydecker, the commanding officer. He was asking what to do about the civilian that I was with."

Max swallowed heavily, fear of what could have happened that day was obviously still affecting her. "He confirmed that he and the TAC team that was on their way to meet up with him would… eliminate you."

"What?" Sam gasped, turning to stare at her, his mouth now gaping.

"It would have been a tactic used to disorient me and also something to prevent you from investigating the nature of my disappearance. I would have let it be Sam," Max wet her lips, "but he started giving Lydecker a description of you. He got as far as the fact that you were a Caucasian male and I… I snapped his neck. And then, I got the hell out of there."

There was a short pause and then Sam said, "and I had no idea that anything like that had happened. Just stood at the corner and waited for you. But you killed him… for me?" Max nodded.

"If they knew anything specific about you, they would have hunted you down, looking for me. I couldn't leave you vulnerable like that." The hint of desperation in her voice tugged at him, evoking similar thoughts of if someone he loved was threatened.

"Okay," he sighed, nodding. "I can understand that. What about… the first?" It was Max's turn to sigh.

"That's so much harder to explain," Max bemoaned, her eyes fixed at her knees. She continued on when Sam would have protested. "Because you just don't know what it was like back in Wyoming. At Manticore." She glanced at him quickly and then away. "I don't know if I can make you understand, because I… still don't."

Intrigued, despite the gruesome nature of the subject under discussion, Sam turned to her. "How old were you?"

Nine, I think," she answered honestly determined to give him as much truth as she thought he could handle.

"You think?" Sam repeated, but Max was already shaking her head.

"Birthdays meant nothing there. I don't really know for sure what day I was born." Sam's eyebrows shot up at that. "I mean," Max hurried on, "I'm pretty sure I was born in the winter. That's when Zack said I joined the unit. Manticore put us into units just after our fourth birthday."

"That could be anywhere from November to March," Sam sputtered, protesting and Max gave a small smile.

"Zack was pretty sure it was December or January. We didn't have calendar to go by. So I kind of split the difference. First of January was just as easy a day to remember to add a year to my age."

"Yeah, I suppose," Sam murmured, remembering back to her first birthday celebration with his family. Remembered how she had revealed to him that she'd never celebrated her birthday before. "That just… boggles the mind, you know?"

"It's just the tip of the iceberg," Max pointed out quietly. "Nothing existed for us beyond the walls of Manticore, you know? We had no outside communication. Soldiers, trainers, handlers, doctors, none of them were allowed to fraternize with us, so that we wouldn't be corrupted by superfluous details that didn't pertain to our training and missions."

"So you really knew nothing?" Sam questioned, another idea he couldn't quite get his head and mind wrapped around.

"Oh, we knew things,' Max assured him. "We had lessons in basic math, geometry that sort of stuff, advancing as we got older. But for the most part, we had no context for a lot of things."

"How do you mean?"

"Like ghost hunting," Max grinned. "If you're open minded enough, you can admit that maybe there's a tiny chance that yes, spirits could possibly exist. But until you actually see and experience one, you never quite fully believe. You know?" Sam nodded, remembering his first spectral encounter. It was exactly like she had said. "And maybe that's what the problem was," Max continued, her voice sadder than Sam had ever heard it.

"How do you mean?"

"Well, we were all curious," Max sighed. "Children with cat DNA, how could we not be?" Sam snickered at that. He could see how that could have been a parents worst nightmare. "But we learned quickly to curb that impulse. Except Ben."

"The storyteller?" Sam recalled from her earlier tales of her 'siblings'.

"He always had questions. Things like, why was the sky blue, or how did birds fly and why did flowers close their petals at night. But the trainers would always tell him that these things weren't important, that it didn't pertain to the course material. So… he started making up stories to answer his own questions. But it always led to more and these stories Sam, some of them were so beautiful and others were… terrifying."

"And you didn't know any better, did you?" Sam understood her point immediately. She nodded.

"Ben was always so sure. I mean, there were moments that we doubted what he said, but, you know, we all saw the nomlies in the basement, so maybe the other things he talked about were true too."

"Nomlies?" Sam queried and Max flushed a little bit.

"Anomalies," she clarified. "We called them nomlies when we were little and that was always our name for them. They were… earlier, failed experiments. Some of them looked human and… some of them just… didn't." Sam shivered again at the thought of humans melded with various animals. Those snake things that they'd encountered so many years before had been disturbing enough.

So what happened?" Sam encouraged her to continue.

"Well, you know about the seizures," Max went on. "We all had then," she explained. "Some of us worse than others. Manticore tried different therapies, but nothing seemed to work out long term. They looked at it as one of the many unforeseen side effects of splicing genomes together."

"Like not needing sleep?" Sam grinned and to his surprise, Max really blushed, ducked her head and murmured agreement. He reminded himself to ask her about that later. "So, the seizures?" he guided the conversation away and back to the previous topic.

"Well you know how bad they get?" Max offered and they both gave slight, unconscious shivers. "One night, Jack was seizing. It wouldn't stop. We didn't know what to do. If we did nothing, he'd die. If we called for help, he'd be taken away. And sometimes… they didn't come back." Sam inhaled sharply, but held his peace. "And then, we heard someone coming, so we all ran back to our beds. But it was just a janitor, putting away supplies. But he saw Jack. And, instead of calling for help, he gave something to Jack, told him something and then left. As soon as the door was shut, we all ran over to see what it was." Sam watched as her eyes softened, luminescent as she remembered. "He'd given Jack a card with this beautiful, radiant woman in blue on it. Her heart was out there for the world to see."

"The Virgin Mary," Sam reasoned immediately and Max nodded..

"Ben called her the Blue Lady. See, the janitor had told Jack to pray to her, that she would protect him. The … moment that Jack touched that card… his seizures stopped, dead cold." She blinked rapidly and smiled ruefully. "You can see I'm sure…"

"The power of faith?" Sam smiled widely and nodded.

"Well, not only did Jack's seizures stop, but he'd lost a tooth," Max continued. "I mean, it was loose before and with all that shaking, but Ben took it as a sign from the Blue Lady. He thought that she'd shaken out the tooth in exchange for saving Jack's life, or at least that's what she was trying to show us. And you know, that seemed weird, even to us. But Ben said that she needed the tooth, to make her heart stronger. And of course, since her heart was exposed, that made some sense, you know, to build her an enamel shield."

"That's about the strangest tooth fairy I've ever heard of," Sam smiled gently. Max tilted her head and kind of shrugged, agreeing with him.

"So anyway, Ben built a shrine to her, at the top of our barracks building. The High Place, he called it. And whenever we lost a tooth, we'd take it up there and add it to the collection. The uh, more hardcore of us, even pulled a tooth or two."

"Old string around the loose tooth trick, huh?" Sam chucked, which died off suddenly as Max slowly shook her head in the negative. "Oh, you…?"

"Oh, well not me," Max grinned. "But yeah, tooth, root… hardcore."

"Wow," Sam breathed out. "Okay, so how does this… fit in?"

Max sighed deeply, her body stiffening again. "There were enemies all around us. The trainers talked constantly about 'the enemy'. And Ben told us about how the enemy would try and hurt our Blue Lady. They'd go after her heart, because it was so vulnerable and pure. That they wanted it for his or her own. And that the nomlies, they were being punished for not protecting her." Sam leaned forward, intrigued at how imagination and limited knowledge had shaped Max's childhood. "They lived in the basement, the Bad Place. And soldiers who couldn't redeem themselves were… given to the Nomlies and… eaten alive." Sam's gasp was barely noticed by her.

"So," she cleared her throat, trying to hold emotion at bay, more so than because of lingering soreness from her lengthy crying jag. "During this time, Lydecker was arranging different forms of training for us. He had just added a new element to escape and evade. Before, we were the ones who had to evade, but they felt that it wasn't enough. Lydecker wanted to teach us the other side, the capture. The first two times, everything went like it was supposed to. Lydecker had death row inmates brought in. They were told that if they could make it over the perimeter fence, they were free. If we caught them, it was back to death row. And none were ever free for long. The men were given weapons, and it was no holds barred. They could do whatever they came up with to enable evading us. They could try and capture or trip us up, even kill us if they had to."

"They told them that?" Sam gasped, feeling sickened. Max nodded and then gave a one shouldered shrug, looking slightly smug.

"Those guys couldn't quite bring themselves to. At least the ones we went up against. Those guys would fire wide. I guess none of them could handle… kids." Sam nodded. Even thieves and murderers could live by a self-imposed code. Their own sense of morals. Max continued, "the third time, it all started off the same. The prisoner had a gun and a hunting knife and he was released ahead of us. Lydecker made us wait while he counted down the time and then they let us loose. When we caught up to him, we were in horseshoe formation. Those of us at the back revealed ourselves and drew his fire while the others at the front had surrounded him and easily disarmed him."

Sam waited patiently, silently, through these details, recognizing her unconscious delay at having to get to the final distasteful end. Her voice got quiet and she was unable to meet his eyes.

"Twenty super soldier kids on one guy. There was no way he could get away. We… subdued him. When we… his shirt was ripped open and he had… a tattoo. A dagger… through a heart." Sam realized in an instant the fear that was the driving force behind whatever actions were to happen after that discovery. "I remember… we thought he was another nomlie. A soldier without honor. And we just… reacted. Beating him and kicking…" she trailed off for a moment, her eyes vacant and Sam wondered with a sick feeling, if she was reliving it and even more nausea as he was sure she was. Slowly she came back to herself, her eyes flickering between him and her hands clenched tightly together in her lap. "By the time the trainers had pulled us off… he was dead."

"My God," Sam whispered, frozen in his seat, swallowing back bile that had nothing to do with the after effects of his drinking jag.

"They were all stunned," Max continued finally. "I mean, truly horrified by what we did. Lydecker ordered us into lock down. And when we didn't tell him why we'd disobeyed a direct order, he sent us for… psychiatric evaluation." She shuddered again.

"I take it that that wasn't good?" Sam whispered and Max shook her head, unable to speak even now about it.

"We didn't tell them what happened, who threw the first punch, why we didn't stop when ordered to. So we had to go through some basic reindoctrination and then were sent back to barracks. But Jack didn't come back." She turned her head away.

"What happened?" Sam asked softly, unconsciously moving closer to her.

"I snuck out to go find him."

"Did you…?" She nodded.

"He'd suffered a grand mal seizure during questioning, I… they were performing an autopsy on him."

"You saw that?" Sam's face darkened as she nodded. Jesus. Even John had spared he and Dean from that gruesome task and other things like that whenever he possibly could, even when they were older.

"I went back to tell everyone," she continued, shivering. "and Ben, he went up to the High Place. I think he thought that the Blue Lady was punishing us by killing Jack. Manticore found him up there and took him away."

"Did they…?" Sam couldn't even say the words.

"No. He came back after a few days. But he wasn't the same. Something… broke in him. He was different. Everything was different," she sighed. "We were isolated from everyone. Whenever anybody had to come into our barracks, there were guards with them, with weapons at the ready. They wouldn't look us in the eye. They were… scared of us. And Zack, he said it was because of what we had done. That killing that man was wrong. Not because it was in violation of our orders. And he wanted to leave."

"So you ran away?" Sam knew that much from years past.

"Zack was the commanding officer of our unit. He told us to, so we had to go, were going to go, but…"

"But what?" Sam asked softly, his hand gliding over her shoulder comfortingly.

"The night we were going to escape, I had a seizure." Sam held back his breath. "Two guards and a medical technician came into the room to see what was going on. And… my unit wasn't going to let them take me away. So Zack and Eva attacked. They disabled the guards and Eva got a gun. She took point and we ran." Sam could feel the shiver racing through her and moved even closer, his hand moving to the small of her back as she huddled into herself. "Some guards trapped us in a corridor and Lydecker was there with them. Eva had the gun, but she wouldn't use it unless she had to."

"Did she?" Sam questioned softly. Max shook her head.

"She never had a chance. Lydecker shot her, point blank in the chest. There… was this moment, this absolute fear pervading the air and I heard this crash. And then Zack pushed me to the window. We all went out that window. We rendezvoused at the previously arranged co-ordinates. Zack made us split up and told us to escape, evade and go to ground. I didn't want to split up, but he made us. So Jondy and I ran for the perimeter fence. But we had to cross a stream. The ice broke under me and I fell in. I remember hearing Jondy screaming for me, but there was… I let go for a while, until I thought I was far enough from the area where I fell in. I broke out and kept running. When I got over the fence, I was on a road. One of the nurses from the base, Hannah, found me. But instead of taking me back, she hid me, protected me. She took me out to this cabin and told me that she'd find some way to keep me safe. She made some phone calls and then she left. I waited, but she didn't come back. We had been trained to keep moving in enemy territory. So I left. And you… pretty much know the rest," she concluded softly, still not looking at him.

Sam had no idea what to say. This, he couldn't blame Max. If anything and he was sure, it was the fault of this Manticore, Lydecker, all of the adults who had been involved, who had trained and taught and created this mess. He could see the self-loathing, regret and utter fear in Max over this. She stood and moved to look out the window overlooking their front lawn. She pressed one hand against the glass.

"I've tried forgetting that day, but I can't," she whispered sadly, still staring out the window. Sam turned to regard her, leaning forward to listen. "There were times, when we were hunting, whether it was the four of us, or three or even just Dean and I…," she explained slowly. "It took me a while to figure it out. I didn't understand until that shape shifter attacked Dean. I could… smell his fear. It took me right back to that day." She bowed her head. "That's what we were reacting to. Not the tattoo, or the nomlie. It was Ben's fear. It was… instinct that demanded we eliminate the threat to Ben."

"Instincts?" Sam questioned softly. "Was that one of the unforeseen side effects?"

"Instincts, deeper than what we were taught and trained for. Instincts that, no matter what, we can't deny… or suppress," Max nodded slowly. "We were more than just a unit. We were… a pack. And above everything else, we had to protect our own."

"Just like family," Sam offered and he caught a glimpse of her face reflected in the window, smiling sadly.

"Yeah, my family. But you guys," she tilted her head to the side contemplatively. "you became my family too."

"So," Sam began, rising to move to stand beside her, a glow thrumming through his body as he recognized that he had needed to hear how much she cared. But there were still questions. "What does this all mean, instinctively? I mean, I'm pretty sure that we Winchesters don't have the same type of genetic combos that you do. I guess…"

"It means," Max inhaled, a small smile playing at her lips, "that I know and recognize each of your scents. I can pick you out in a crowded room by scent alone, in the dark. Or you know, blindfolded or something, since, cat… night vision and all."

"You can see in the dark?" Sam exclaimed, startled. Obviously there were a lot of what could reasonably be called perks that he hadn't even considered yet. Max gave a rueful half smile as if reading his thoughts.

"No one can see in total dark by themselves. I have to have a little of some form of light."

"What else can you do?" Sam asked, his curiosity flaring.

"Um, super sensitive hearing, I can hold my breath for a really long time. I have about three times the strength of a well-trained bodybuilder. Enhanced speed and endurance."

"You blurred," Sam interrupted, recalling the fight in the alleyway. "And ran across a wall." She nodded. "Christ! You are superwoman!"

"Not quite," Max chuckled. "Although I can jump really high, I haven't leapt over any tall buildings in a single bound."

"So you can't fly either," he muttered with a self-deprecating grin. "Can you walk on water?"

"I'm not the Messiah Sam," Max giggled, though it seemed a little forced and then she frowned. Sam shook his head. Out of everything in his life, this had to be the most… he couldn't even think of an appropriate enough word for it, or even a string of words. But there was one thing he had to know. He touched Max's arm lightly and she turned towards him, waiting to see what he wanted.

"You said we became your family," he offered. "Does that mean…?" Max's eyebrows furrowed and her eyes darkened. "What you did to protect me… would you do it again?" she swallowed and slowly nodded. "Even if I asked you not to?" Sam pressed. Max closed her eyes for a moment, inhaled slowly and exhaled carefully.

She lifted her face, opened her eyes to meet his gaze and stated clearly, "if it kept you safe, then yes, I would do it, regardless of you asking me not to." Sam stared at her for a long moment and then it was his turn to stare pointlessly out the window, lost to his own thoughts. It was a startling day to discover the lengths his girlfriend and even his own family would go to, all in the name of love.

"Sam?" she spoke hesitantly, "I know this changes things between us." Her jerked his chin up, a brash acknowledgment of that sweeping understatement. "Do you want me to leave?" she asked in a tiny voice.

"No!" Sam's head snapped around to stare at her, because like her, Sam had some instincts of his own and the word was out before he had even fully processed her question. "No," he repeated more softly and there was no way he could miss the hope in her eyes. "But Max, I… need some time. To think. To…" Her head bowed again and she hugged herself around the middle.

"Okay," she whispered. "I understand."

And silence fell between them.


	22. A Waiting Game

Title: What If... Racing Towards Destiny

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Rating: PG-13- R

Genre: Crossover

Type: Romance

Pairing: Max/ Gueverra/ Sam Winchester

Summary: What if... Max had been having a different dream?

Spoilers/ Time line: This starts when Max is thirteen and going into heat for the very first time.

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first please.

A/N: This story, while being in the same universe as _When It Changes_, does not actually occur within that storyline. This fiction is just an off-shoot of what **might **have happened.

**Chapter Twenty-two**

**A Waiting Game**

Sam rolled over and pushed at his pillow, bunching it up, reshaping it. He lifted his head and let it fall back against the feathered lump with an exasperated sigh. But he already knew that this position of staring up at the ceiling was no good for him. His head fell to the side and he stared at the empty expanse to his right. He started to wonder how long he'd hated this bed. But maybe, an inner voice niggled at him, it wasn't the bed. Maybe it was the lingering echoes in the house.

Turning the other way, he glanced at the clock. Eleven thirty at night and there just seemed to be no chance that he was going to sleep any time soon. Pushing the cover down to his waist, Sam finished the removal process by kicking at them like a child preparing for an ear shattering temper tantrum. Once the covers had been kicked down to the floor, Sam contemplated his tiny fit of pique. It did absolutely nothing to make him feel better. With a groan, he rolled over and sat up, swinging his bare feet to the floor.

He got up from the bed and made his way through the dark to the bedroom door. But being upright did nothing to improve his mood. He moved through the hallway, listening to the howling September wind. He stepped into the study and flicked on the light. But, caught up on his schoolwork, there was nothing of interest in there. With a disgusted noise, he flipped off the light and wandered through the house again.

He flipped open numerous cupboards, staring at the contents with the various snack foods within, but nothing tempted him. It was the same with the contents of the refrigerator. Finally, desperate, he grabbed a bottle of beer and headed for the living room. He fell into the sofa, more than he actually sat, and grabbed up the remote to turn the television on. Opening the bottle, he took a large swig and began flicking through the channels. But like everything else in the empty house, this too just did not hold his interest.

'_Call her!'_ his mind urged but Sam resolutely continued flipping from one station to another. He had promised himself… He took another swig of beer and then let his head fall back as he stared vacantly at the television screen. Trying to settle himself, he took several long, deep breaths and then swore mentally. God, it was like he could smell her, as if she were right there next to him and he frowned. Why couldn't he…

'_Call her!'_ his mind insisted urgently and Sam slammed the remote down beside himself. No, he wasn't going to. Tilting his head back slightly, he felt finally the irregular bumps from the afghan that had been folded and laid across the back of the sofa. Without realizing it, his free hand stole up and fingered the edge of it as the memories of many nights of snuggling with her under this blanket, the one that she'd made especially for him, watching movies… talking, laughing… loving. It all played through his mind and with a groan, Sam realized that her scent still lingered in the yarn.

Taking another drink, Sam yanked the afghan down and let it fall across his lap and stomach. His fingers toyed with the edges as he stared at some show that was barely interesting and couldn't be followed since he'd just started watching in the middle of it. He pressed the bottle of beer to his forehead, looking for the last lingering chill to cool him externally, since it wasn't working to quench that fire inside.

'_Call her! Call her! CALL HER!'_ his mind chanted. He drained the bottle of its contents and let the bottle dangle from his fingers. He pulled the blanket close, almost snuggling it. It took him a few moments to realize what he was doing and when he did, he felt slightly disgusted with himself. Pushing the blanket away, he heaved himself to his feet and headed back to the kitchen. He dropped the empty bottle in the trash can and opened up the refrigerator for another. He twisted off the cap and tossed it on the counter, listening to the tinny clatter echo around the room as he gulped down the brew. After it was more than half gone, Sam finally shut the refrigerator door. He didn't feel like sitting in front of the television. So he leaned back against the counter opposite the large appliance.

The phone seemed to beckon to him and after a few minutes of mental struggle, he finally gave in and yanked the cordless from its base. He dialed with his thumb and put the phone up to his ear and took a quick sip of beer. She answered after the third ring, slightly out of breath.

"Sam?"

Sam chewed on his lower lip for a moment and then took a deep breath. "Hey Max," he greeted softly. "Um… I know that uh… I said I wouldn't call, but… um!"

"Uh huh," she agreed, her voice a little higher pitched than normal. "What'd you need?'

"Oh, uh, it's nothing really," Sam swallowed. How could he tell her under the circumstances that he was missing her desperately. After all, he had been the one to insist that she go. "Is everything okay?" he asked instead.

"Not really," she answered vaguely.

"Is there a… problem?" he tried again, his eyebrows furrowing together.

"It's nothing!" she snapped, surprising Sam, but then she seemed immediately contrite. "I'm sorry Sam. It's just not a good time for me right now. I really just didn't expect this tonight. It's too soon and I-!"

"Max," Sam whispered, concerned. "Can't you tell me what's going on?"

"I can't," she blurted out. "I'm sorry. I just… this is really hard for me." Sam felt his gut clench, not understanding.

"Max, if there's anything I can do…"

"Oh Sam," she sighed. "God, I don't know…"

"You're kinda scaring me here Max," Sam muttered.

"I'm sorry," she responded almost automatically, her voice rising again. "Um, maybe there is something," she told him softly.

At those words, he straightened up, listening intently. When she finished her instructions, she hung up on him. Startled and puzzled, Sam set his beer down and, carrying the phone with him, headed to the bedroom to carry out her directions. When he finally had found what she had wanted him to find, it took several long minutes and a lot of puzzling and searching his mind and memories before the last barrier crumbled to dust. Sitting down on the bed, he switched on the phone and hit the redial button. She picked up immediately.

"Yeah?"

"Max?" Sam spoke in a low deep tone. "Come home."

"Are you sure?" she questioned softly.

"Yeah baby," he smiled widely. "I'm sure."

He met her at the door, in truth, had been pacing the hallway since he'd last hung up the phone. She slipped into the house and pressed herself back against the door after she'd shut it. Sam was a scant foot away from her as he stared down at her, his eyes drinking in her luminescent beauty.

"So?" he asked quietly, watching the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed rapidly, almost panting.

"Yeah," she answered just as quietly. Her face held a diverse mix of emotions that Sam had trouble reading.

"So," he tried again, inching closer to her, smiling faintly. "This is what you couldn't tell me?" She nodded helplessly, her eyes fixed on him. "Why not?" he whispered and Max frowned, her eyes darkening.

"It's embarrassing Sam," she whispered. "This is the one thing in my life that I can't control, or pretend is normal. It just shows what a… freak I really am."

"Really?" he murmured, as he lowered his head to just centimeters away from her face. "Because I think it's pretty amazing."

"How can you say that?" she swallowed, her back arching off the door, as if she were magnetically drawn to him. Sam braced his hands against the door on either side of her as he nuzzled at her hair.

"Because being able to make love with you is the single most precious gift in my life. And when it happens this intensely, it feels like our love has become a living entity that just grows stronger each time. And right now, I feel like I could fill an ocean with the love I have for you."

"Oh Sam," she sighed, a tear escaping form her eye to roll slowly down her cheek until Sam's lips broke its path, kissing it away.

"So what do you say Max?" he asked gently. "Do I get to share this with you?"

"Yes please Sam," she whispered as her hands stole up to frame his face. His hands slid down the door to capture her waist, pressing the length of his body against hers, letting her feel the proof of his desire. Feelings that had been building all night.

"Wow!" he whispered.

"Yeah," Max concurred softly. "That was…"

Sam pressed a kid on her forehead before whispering, "amazing."

Max tilted her head up to look at him, smiling shyly. "It was, wasn't it?"

"God, I love you," he grinned, cradling the back of her neck with one hand while the other caressed the small of her back.

"Mmm, I love you too, so much," Max sighed contentedly.

"There is just one thing though," Sam grunted, grinning as Max turned startled, suddenly worried eyes up to him.

"What?" she whispered.

"Ow!" he muttered and she looked panicked.

"Oh, baby, did I-?"

"Not you," he laughed, "The floor." Max looked confused for just a second and then laughed as well.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she announced loftily.

"Of course you don't," Sam scoffed. "Somehow, you always manage to come out on top in these little escapades."

Max giggled and pressed a kiss to his chest. "Can you blame me for liking you as a bed? You are so darn comfortable!"

"And you make an excellent blanket, what with that sweet heat," Sam chuckled and Max sputtered at the double entendre. Sam pursed his lips contemplatively then and then said, "except now that I think about it, my ass is freezing."

Max shook her head, dropped another kiss on his lips and carefully climbed off of him. She held out her hand to pull him up. Once that was accomplished, she made short work of removing her bustier and the boots that still adorned her feet. Sam pulled his pajama pants back on, admiring her curves as she bent over to pick up the rest of her discarded clothes.

"You know," he muttered, "given the circumstances, I'm glad I broke the rules and called you tonight."

"So am I," Max sighed. "Although, for your information, that whole 'no men' rule that Kara had for her bachelorette party was such a crock."

"Really?" Sam quirked an eye at that as he followed her to the bedroom.

"Mm hmm," Max nodded as she threw her clothes into the laundry basket and then moved over to the dresser to find a night shirt. "Kara was on the phone with Tristan when I got there."

"Checking up on her?" he grinned.

"Complaining," Max corrected. "His friends took him to a strip club." Sam shook his head in wonderment.

"Uh oh," he murmured. "Was she upset?"

"Not really," Max shrugged as she picked up the blanket from the floor and gave him a small questioning look.

"Uh, couldn't sleep," he muttered, flushing a little as he remembered his earlier fit. Of course, he now had a much better understanding of why he'd been in such an agitated state. He moved the Cat Care book off of the bed, wondering if his body had been unconsciously responding to her period of pheromone release even without her around, because they'd been together long enough to be that attuned to each other. As he set the book on the nightstand, Sam reminded himself to ask her about that later.

"Well that was just the beginning," Max continued as Sam helped her to spread the light comforter over the bed again, giving the corners short jerks to straighten it out. It didn't matter overly much, as they were going to bed and it would get moved around. "I mean, Janet's husband called because their kid was refusing to eat his dinner. Dana's boyfriend called because he couldn't find the remote. Really, pretty much every attached woman got some sort of check-up."

"Even you," Sam grinned as he climbed under the covers.

"Yeah, well, at least you didn't show up with a pizza and pretend to have the wrong address for delivery," Max scoffed. Sam guffawed at that.

"Well," he sputtered, "that ought to teach you women a lesson," he chuckled.

"Yup," Max agreed as she slid in as well, turning on her side to regard him. "Don't ever let men know when you plan on getting drunk and don't ever let Kara's mom plan a bachelorette party."

"Well, I was going to point out how hopeless we are without you, but what did Mrs. Wilson do?" Sam asked, grinning.

"She hired a stripper, even though Kara told her not to," Max rolled her eyes. "And don't even go there."

"Go where?" Sam asked, though his face had darkened just a little.

"Don't go getting jealous," Max chuckled, rubbing one hand over his chest.

"Why would I be jealous?" Sam grunted as he shifted a little closer to her. "Just because I happen to have the most gorgeous girlfriend in the world… was he hitting on you?" he demanded suddenly.

Max rolled her eyes again and grunted. "Just a little," she sighed faintly. "But you know, it was understandable, what with the amount of pheromones I was giving off tonight."

Sam scowled a moment and then reached for her. "Is that why you were so upset tonight when I called you?"

Max shook her head in the negative and then shrugged. "Not really, no. It was…" she sighed again, moving into his embrace and he moved one hand to caress her hip above the cover. "When he got there, I was all flushed and I thought it was just from the drinking and the dancing. But he started um, trying to follow me around. So I ducked into the bathroom and Kara's mom came to check on me, teasing me about being such a guy magnet. And I told her that I'd much rather have you chasing me around all night."

Sam grinned at that. "Really?" he chuckled. Max smiled and nudged his shoulder playfully.

"Well, that's when I realized that I was in heat. And then you called me."

"And you said something about not expecting this so soon," Sam managed to recall from their earlier conversation. Max nodded sheepishly.

"I thought I had another month or so."

"Is it that predictable?" Sam wondered aloud and Max shook her head again in the negative.

"It's about two to three times a year, depending on different things," she informed him and he nodded. "Well, the thing is Sam," she continued softly, "I had promised myself that I'd… figure out a way to tell you about it. Before it actually happened again."

"So you were panicking?" Sam surmised.

"Yeah," she agreed. "Weird, I know. Since we've already been through it several times." Sam's grin widened.

"Well," he muttered, "I guess I can see why it might upset you. Nobody likes being out of control, especially over their own body. But you know," he drawled, " we ordinary humans go through this as well. I mean obviously not to the extent you do, but there have been times…" he trailed off, a slightly horrified look creeping over his face.

"What?" Max asked quietly.

"Okay, that's a disturbing thought," he groaned.

"What?" Max repeated. Sam shook his head.

"Huh. If guys react to the pheromones you give off when you're… in heat," he glanced quickly at her face to see if she would take offense at his using the terminology, but she nodded patiently, "well, how did Dad and Dean handle it?" Max stared at him, shocked for a moment and then began to laugh.

"What?" it was Sam's turn to demand. "It's a legitimate question. One second around you like this and I'm about out of my mind. You weren't even here tonight and I felt like I was going to explode just because I could smell your perfume on the afghan!" Max's eyes widened, but the giggling didn't abate. "Is it so wrong for me to wonder-!"

"No, no," Max got out through the laughter. "It's just that, well, it wasn't that bad. See, when I went into heat around them, well, I'm sure you can guess Dean's reaction. Go out, find a girl and get laid at the earliest possible moment. He never ever looked at me like… well any thoughts like that were automatically excluded, because he most definitely thinks of me as a sister. And well, you know, you guys thought that it was just that time of the month."

Sam ducked his head, smiling himself over the major assumptions they'd all made in regards to Max. "I don't think they ever connected anything back to me being the source," she continued. "And as for Dad…"

"He probably ignored it completely," Sam snorted ruefully, but Max shook her head, her eyes softening.

"Not really," she sighed as she recalled certain incidents. "This one time, well, he um, noticed this woman."

"Really?" Sam murmured softly.

"Yeah," Max nodded. "I mean, she looked nice, kind of stacked. And he just stared at her for a moment, while she was walking away. And then he gave this like… shudder. And then he went and got drunk."

"Oh wow," Sam murmured softly.

"Yeah," Max agreed. It tugged at their heartstrings that John could feel guilty for even looking at another woman after all this time. Sam mused on the similarities between he and his father at that moment. It wasn't something he did often.

"This is what happened, that incident at the gym?" he blurted out suddenly. "Isn't it?" Max looked startled and then ducked her head. Sam reached for her immediately, feeling chagrined. "I'm not mad about it sweetheart," he murmured to her as he pulled her closer, molding their bodies together. His lips skimmed over her hair as he rubbed consolingly at one shoulder. "I was just putting things together in my head… out loud."

"No, I know," Max whispered. "It's just, I was pretty pissed at myself for going out when I knew better by then."

"Yeah, I suppose," Sam agreed and then pulled his head upwards so that he was looking down at her. "But you know, even though it was a crappy thing for you, you kind of did the female population a huge favor."

Max blinked up at him and then began to laugh softly once more. "I guess I did."

Sam smiled encouragingly. "So, any other incidents I should know about?"

"Well," Max drawled, "there was the closet incident."

"The closet…" Sam repeated quietly, trying to remember what that might have been about. "Wait, do you mean when Dean called and told me about how somehow you got locked in a closet and you were so mad that someone had gotten the drop on you, that you spent several hours kicking the door until it finally splintered apart?" Max's lip quirked. "That's just what you told Dean, isn't it?"

"Uh huh," she grinned. "Actually, I locked myself in the closet. Um… figured I wouldn't get into any trouble that way."

"So what changed your mind?"

"I forgot my cell phone on the table," she admitted with a faint blush. "And you were supposed to be calling me. And then the phone rang and I uh, just kind of, blasted the door right off the hinges."

"Oh man," Sam chuckled. "That is just, wow. So who was it on the phone?"

"It was Dad," Max grimaced, "wondering if I was done riding around on my bike and ready to finally get some work done." There was silence for a few minutes and Sam's thoughts turned serious again.

"Can I ask you something?" he questioned softly, her head tucked under his chin. "I mean, you don't have to answer. I mean, I won't get upset if the answer is yes."

"Just ask me Sam," Max prodded, chuckling, rubbing her cheek across his chest. She had a vague idea and was already framing her reply.

"Well," he began slowly, "when you go into heat, do you ever, um, find yourself… attracted to other guys?" he finished the last quickly. Max pushed away from him and he flinched before realizing that she was simply rearranging herself. She leaned across his chest, folding her arms together and then resting her chin on those hands.

"Sam?" she smiled down at him and he gave her the fullest attention. "Do you remember that day a lo-o-ong time ago? You guys were all ready to go, but I was still asleep and you came in and woke me up?"

"We thought you were sick," Sam mused. "That it was, uh and well, now I'm starting to wonder…"

"Yeah," Max smiled. "That was the first time I had gone into heat, though I didn't understand exactly what was going on at that point. But well, you had just woken me up from a very erotic dream starring… you!"

Sam's eyebrows rose. "Max! You were thirteen!" She grinned and shrugged.

"So? I had excellent taste, even back then," she sassed. "The point is Sam, that ever since that first time, it has always and only ever been you." The corners of his mouth spread into a wide, pleased grin.

"See," he whispered. "this is why this is so amazing. Why you're amazing." And with that compliment, he pulled her close to show her just how deeply and truly he meant that.

"… was just fabulous," Max was enthusing. "Kara looked gorgeous and poor Tris was stuttering through everything." Jess laughed as she listened to her friend's description of Tristan and Kara's wedding. The first that either Max or Sam had attended.

"What'd Sam think of it?" Jess wondered.

"Don't know," Max answered honestly. "He didn't know many of the people there. Except for Zack and his date."

"Zack? How did he end up there?" Jess puzzled.

"He and Tristan knew each other from where they used to work. Got to be pretty good friends, I guess."

"Well that was nice that he had someone to talk to," Jess sighed. "Anything else spectacular happen?"

"Really nice midnight cruise around the lake," Max chuckled. "Plenty of champagne and only one fool went overboard." She heard her friend's gasp and knew she'd have to explain that, but before she could, she heard someone on the porch and said quickly, "hang on Jess."

She heard her friend's agreement as she headed to the front door. When she opened it, she saw the mail lady heading down the steps. She called her thanks, which was returned with a jaunty wave and then gathered up the small amount of mail and headed back inside.

"Sorry, had to get the mail," she muttered once she returned the phone to her head. "Sam's still waiting on his LSAT scores."

"They're still not in?" Jess asked with surprise as Max flipped through the bills.

"Nope," she sighed, setting the pile on the kitchen counter. "Still not and its really starting to bug him."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, he wakes up at night in a cold sweat," Max confided.

"Poor guy," Jess commiserated. "Sometimes he's too serious, you know."

"Mm, not really," Max disagreed, though she was smiling. She knew what Jess meant. "Sam just really likes to get these things planned out."

"Well, they'll get there when they get there," Jess decided. "Anyways, the other reason I was calling you," she continued, "was to ask what you guys are doing on Saturday night."

"I have to work," Max explained. "Why?"

"Oh, I just thought you guys might like to hang out with Caden and I. Its our three month anniversary."

"Oh that's right," Max chuckled. "But why would you want to double date?"

"Well, I'm trying not to make a big deal out of it."

"But it is a big deal, right?" Max laughed.

"Yeah, but guys don't think it is," Jess muttered.

"He will if you do something he likes," Max pointed out.

"Oh yay, great," Jess groaned. "Order pizza, watch a game and have sex. Yeah, what a thrill." Max laughed again, but had an idea.

"Why don't you do that? I mean, I know you're not a huge sports fan. But why don't you take him to a game?"

"Oh, like I could get tickets to anything, this close to the weekend," Jess scoffed.

"Give me a day or so," Max instructed. "I'll see what I can come up with. He likes any sport, right?"

"Just the manly ones," Jess snorted. "So no figure skating, gymnastics, synchronized swimming and most definitely not curling!" They laughed together and then said their farewells. As Max hung up, she heard movement on the front porch again, but before she could check, Sam came in.

"Hey," he greeted breathlessly. "Mail come yet?"

"Hey yourself," Max leaned against the hallway wall. "Yes it did and no, there were no results."

Sam frowned as he dropped his bag to the floor. "I wonder what's taking so long."

"No idea," Max shrugged and pushed herself away from the wall. "Did you want some lunch?"

"I guess," Sam sighed as he followed her into the kitchen. "What are we having?"

Max nestled into the sofa, her knees pulled up and her feet slightly under her as she studied the papers she'd printed off form an on-line article from a medical journal. She had a cup of hot cocoa sitting on the coffee table before her. She was so engrossed in the article that she barely noticed Sam as he came out of the bedroom.

"Hey," he said softly, yawning as he entered the living room. "Wondered where you went."

Max glanced up. "Hey, how come you're awake?"

Sam grinned as he lowered himself to the sofa. "You know I can't sleep without you."

"I'm sorry babe," Max rubbed at his shoulder. "I didn't want to keep you up while I was reading."

"I don't mind," Sam assured her as he moved to lay down. Max moved her feet and arm so that he could rest his head in her lap. "What're you reading?"

"An article that Jess told me about," she related, her eyes still rapidly skimming the material. "Someone mentioned it in her anatomy class."

"What's it about?" Sam asked on another yawn.

"It's a preliminary report from a team of doctors working in Japan," Max told him quietly. "Geneticists."

Sam's eyes popped back open with startling rapidity. "Anything promising?" he asked quietly, having made the connection between the article and Max's interest immediately.

Max smiled down softly at him. "Maybe," she half shrugged. "It looks like they're fussing with genes and getting some results. They're working on a baby born addicted to crack and stuff."

"Really?" Sam murmured. "Sounds interesting." Max nodded. "So maybe some good news sooner than we thought," he spoke, trying to be moderately pleased, but not too excited. After all, it was just a preliminary report.

"I'm not going to get my hopes up yet," Max sighed. "I mean, I haven't seen anything about side effects or long term stability," she explained.

"But you said it was a preliminary report paper, right?" Sam pointed out. "So just keep track of the project and you never know."

Max nodded as she lowered her head, touching her lips to his. He closed his eyes again and Max pulled the afghan from the back of the couch, settling it over him as best she could with one hand. Sam smiled drowsily, amazed at how she always seemed to know just what he needed.

Sam woke suddenly, his eyes snapping open only to be assaulted by a harsh glare. His breathing was labored, his body drenched with sweat as he tried desperately to orient his mind.

"Sam?" Max's concerned voice floated over to him. "Sweetie? You okay?"

Sam turned his head, blinking against the light from her lamp, the book she'd been reading laying open across her stomach.

"Yeah," he answered gruffly, his voice quiet and thick.

"You sure?" she whispered, turning on her side, book forgotten. "This is the third night in a row now."

"I'm fine," he assured her hastily. "It's just stress."

"Mm," she frowned. Sam pushed the cover off of his chest, his body overheating. He rubbed one hand over his face, pushing the damp strand of hair off his forehead.

"Well, you know," Max whispered and he felt the bed shift slightly as she moved. "I happen to know a great stress reliever."

"And what's that?" he whispered back, rubbing his eyes with finger and thumb.

"Roll over and I'll give you a back rub," she instructed. Sam opened his eyes to see her looming over him and before he knew it, he'd panicked and reversed their positions, holding her securely under him as she stared up at him in surprise. But before he could apologize, she began to laugh. "Or sex is good as well," she teased.

"Very good," Sam agreed, relieved not to have to explain the sudden, desperate fear that had engulfed him in that moment.

Sam heard the front door slam shut and glanced at his watch. Just after five in the evening. He frowned as he stood up from the desk. Max was scheduled to work until seven, covering partly for Kara while she was on her honeymoon. He heard something else slam shut in the kitchen and wondered what on earth was happening as he headed that way.

"Max?" he called and heard something resembling a grunt. As he turned into the kitchen, he saw her, standing at the counter, cupboard doors open as her eyes searched through the shelves.

"Hey," he greeted as his eyes fell to the counter where he'd left the mail. Only one envelope had been touched. The others sat in a pile.

"Uh huh," Max returned, distracted by whatever it was she was searching for. Not finding it, she turned and yanked open the dishwasher. That door was slammed shut in short order.

"You okay?" Sam asked, bemused by this puzzling behavior.

"Fine," she answered shortly.

'Okay," Sam drawled under his breath as she began yanking dishes out of the cupboard and setting them heavily on the counter. "So the mail came today," he began.

"Like it generally does every day but Sunday," Max scoffed.

She turned to the refrigerator and pulled that door open. Sam wrinkled his nose as Max drew out a carton of eggs and slammed the door shut again. She pushed the opened letter out of the way and laid the carton on the counter. She reached back for the bowl she'd found and set it beside the stove. And then she proceeded to begin breaking egg after egg into the bowl.

"What're you doing?" Sam asked finally, wondering what, aside from an omelet, that she planned on making for dinner that had anything with that amount of eggs in it.

"What does it look like?" she snapped as she grabbed another egg. Sam blinked in surprise. Obviously something was bothering her normally placid self and by the cessation of motion, Max must have realized that whatever was bothering her had nothing to do with Sam. "I'm sorry," she muttered, leaning her hip against the counter. "It's just turned into a really crappy day."

"Oh?" Sam asked, thought he had already figured that out. "What happened?"

"Well," Max sighed, crossing her arms as she regarded him. "Do you remember when Kara wanted to talk to me at the wedding, privately?" Sam nodded. He'd figured that it must have something to do with work. "Well, it turned out that Tristan had a job offer. New York locale," she explained. "And he took it. So Kara told me that she had just given Hanover her resignation."

Sam nodded again. That made sense. What newlywed couple would want to be separated?

"The other thing she told me was that she was recommending me to take her place as assistant manager." Sam's eyes grew wide.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked with a grin, but Max's face remained stony.

"She asked me not to mention it, since Hanover was the one who had to make the decision," Max explained. "And to be honest, without your school stuff up in the air, I wasn't sure about it."

"Okay," Sam nodded. That was fair. If he were to attend somewhere else for law school, it would necessitate a move to elsewhere. And he no more wanted to be separated from Max, than Tristan did from Kara.

"But then I figured," Max continued, "that the experience would look good on my resume. And if we moved, it wouldn't be until December, or January." Sam settled himself in a little more as he listened to her narrative. "So Hanover told me that he wanted to talk to me today, just before he left."

"About a promotion?" Sam asked and Max laughed derisively.

"Yeah, just not my promotion." Sam's eyebrows furrowed. Max sighed. "He called me into the office to inform me that he was promoting Rita to assistant manager."

"Rita?" Sam echoed in surprise.

"I know!" Max squawked. "I mean, she only works the afternoon shift. I've had experience with every shift. She has no clue how to do the ordering. She's never done the banking and her till is always off!"

"I know," Sam soothed, but Max was too annoyed to allow him to calm her down.

"I mean," she snorted. "I foiled three robbers and Rita gets a promotion!"

"Well, did you ask why-!"

"Of course I asked why!" Max scowled. "And you know what that little jerk told me? It's company policy to offer the promotion based on seniority!"

"Oh," Sam frowned, mulling that over. "Well, if it's the policy-!"

"A week Sam!" Max growled and turned back to break more eggs into the bowl. "She's been there for one whole fucking week longer than me! And that policy is a crock of shit! There's nothing, _nothing_ in the franchise manuals, which I've read cover to cover, about ranking for promotion."

Sam pulled Max away from the counter and the last few defenseless eggs and engulfed her in a hug. He hadn't realized until that moment just how much Max wanted to be recognized for the hard work she put in. How this was something in her life that he really had nothing to do with and how she wanted to succeed at it, to be equal with him in their relationship.

"I'm sorry babe," he murmured and after a moment's pause, he chuckled. "But you know, maybe Rita will mess up badly enough that Hanover will be forced to replace her. Given her track record, you might be assistant manager yet."

But Max was shaking her head. "Rita could load that store up with TNT and blow it sky high and she would never see one ounce of trouble for it," Max scoffed, leaning her forehead against his chest.

"Really?" Sam asked, puzzled. Max leaned back in his arms and lifted her gaze to meet his.

"That's the sort of thing that happens," Max explained quietly, "when you screw the boss and then threaten to tell his wife and or file a sexual harassment suit."

"They're-!" Sam choked out.

"That's why she got the promotion?" Max nodded tiredly. "And I honestly think that he's more afraid of Polly finding out that a lawsuit," she murmured. "That's why Andrew quit. He found out about it."

It was Sam's turn to scowl. Sure, it wasn't something he condoned, but quitting a good job over it… and apparently Max could read these thoughts of his easily.

"Andrew's father screwed around," Max informed him sadly. "When his mom found out about it, she downed a lethal amount of gin and pills while Drew was at school. He was the one that found her."

"Oh my God," Sam swallowed heavily. Now that would definitely explain Andrew's behavior.

Max sighed again. "But you know, even if Rita were to disappear, I still wouldn't get the promotion."

"Why not?" Sam asked gently, though his eyes darkened. He was hoping that Max wasn't so upset by this as to have been running herself down.

"I quit," she stated simply. "Right then and there."

"Oh wow," Sam breathed out, gently rubbing her back. He wasn't sure what to say, given what he'd just been thinking about Drew walking out of work all those months ago.

"I'm sorry," Max apologized with a small sniffle. "But it was just too much. I actually felt… sick, being around those two. I couldn't stay."

"And I wouldn't want you to," Sam readily assured her, hugging her tightly, decision indtantly made, understanding that it was her choice to make and live with.

"But you know what really got me?" Max swallowed and Sam waited. "As I was leaving, Rita was on the phone, probably one of her skanky little friends, telling them that she'd finally gotten rid of the '_self-righteous bitch'_," Max relayed.

Sam's arms tightened around her convulsively for a moment before he forced himself to relax. His eyes strayed around the kitchen as he slowly counted to ten. But it wasn't enough. He'd always had a problem with his temper whenever even the hint of someone denigrating his girlfriend came up. With slow deliberation, he reached one hand out to the counter, closed the lid on the carton of eggs and then brought his fist down upon it. There was a satisfying crunch and a small chuckle from Max.

"Better than nothing, right?" she asked. Sam wrinkled his nose.

"I suppose," he sighed. "Replacing a dozen eggs is cheaper than being fined for assault."

"Exactly my thinking," Max muttered. "Though the dishes were in serious trouble when I first got home."

"Didn't want to clean up that big a mess, huh?"

She shook her head and sighed. "I could really use some cheering up right now,' she told him. Sam grinned and released on arm from around her again.

"I think I've got something," he told her quietly. He reached over to the counter where it lay, and picked up the sheet of paper that she'd totally ignored. He shook it straight, which caught her attention. She turned to regard it, quickly realizing what it must be, her eyes searching for the information laid out there.

"174!" she shrieked, her head whipping around to regard her boyfriend again. "Oh Sam! That's awesome!"

"I thought so," he nodded, letting the paper fall back down to the counter as her arms tightened around him again. She tilted her head back, pressing a kiss against his collar bone.

"We should celebrate," she murmured. "Feel like going out for dinner?"

"Uh, I don't know," Sam murmured, just the slightest bit distracted. "I mean, with neither of us working, things are going to get a little tight."

"Oh, we're not in dire straights yet," Max chuckled throatily. "I mean, we have the savings account and well, you know how I said I quit?"

"Uh huh."

"Well I did," Max smiled, an impish twinkle in her eye. "But I told Hanover that I was leaving immediately, that I needed to go see, well I meant that I was coming home to see you. But, well, he took it differently."

"What did he think?" Sam asked, slightly amused as well.

"Polly," she said shortly, her voice wry. "So, um, he offered me three weeks severance, I don't have to work my last two weeks and because I've been working full time to cover for Kara, that's what my unemployment insurance will be based on, if I apply."

"And all so you won't tattle?"

"Yup," Max nodded. "I've been bribed." Sam chewed at the corner of his lip for a moment and Max grinned. "And I don't feel all that bad about that."

"You don't," he echoed, a little discomfited by that.

"Mm hmm," Max grinned. "I suppose I might feel badly about it, being party to this really damaging secret. I mean, you know I would..." she trailed off as Sam nodded once. "But the thing is, honey? Polly already knows."

"What!"

"Yeah," Max snickered. "That's one of the other things Kara warned me about."

"Really?"

"Well, remember how the Hanover's had that really big to-do about putting in more security cameras after this summer?" Sam nodded. "Well," Max continued, "Polly finally got her own way. I've told you before that both their names are on the ownership papers, even though Polly stays home with the kids, right?"

"Yeah, you mentioned that," Sam leaned back against the refrigerator, intrigued.

"Well, they put in the camera in the alley, another one out front and several more in the store and of course, in the office."

"Well, they keep the safe there," Sam shrugged one shoulder. "It makes sense."

"Yeah, well apparently Bob-o didn't really pay too much attention to the plans for placement. And then there was the fact that Polly didn't tell him that there was another camera going into the office to cover it from more than one angle…"

"They were-!" Sam's eyes widened. "In the office!" Max grinned and nodded. "And she found out and just…"

"Oh she was pissed off," Max shook her head. "Don't get me wrong honey. But Kara told me that Polly is building up quite a case against her husband. She confronted Kara about it, and Kara told her that she suspected it but had never actually caught them at anything. And then Polly told Kara that once she was ready and set the lawyers loose, she'd take over the store. She wanted to keep Kara, Luke and myself on, so we weren't to worry about our jobs."

"Oh my God," Sam half sighed, half chuckled. "Why didn't you tell me about this before?"

"Because I didn't have anything to do with it at the time," Max explained easily. "You know I don't like bringing the drama home with me. And I figured that if Polly knew, then she could deal with it as she saw fit."

"But then they went and pulled this crap," Sam frowned. "Maybe you should call Polly and let her know. I mean, with Kara gone…"

Max shook her head. "No, I actually think I was right in my first instinct. I should probably stay with something more flexible until we know for sure what your school stuff will be."

"Okay," Sam agreed. "So maybe its not all that bad after all."

"I guess not," Max wrinkled her nose. "So you know what? Let's forget about this afternoon. I am in the mood to hop into the shower, get cleaned up, take you out to a nice dinner, maybe some slow dancing. And all the while, I will be wearing the slinkiest clothes I can get away with in public, getting you all hot and bothered, until you're begging to take me home to bed. How does that sound?"

"A lot better if we could just skip to the end," Sam groaned, reaching for her, but she ducked under his arm.

"Well, where would the fun be in that?"

His frustrated, grunted, "brat!" chased her down the hallway.

"I wonder where she is?" Sam frowned as he glanced at the time.

"She's only fifteen minutes late sweetie," Jess grinned. "What was she doing this morning? More job hunting?" Sam nodded.

"Did she try down at the grocery store?" Alli asked as she cradled a mug of coffee between her hands. Sam nodded again.

"They'd already filled the position," he explained.

"You know," Dale chimed in, "maybe she should think about something else."

"Like what?" Sam asked, not really interested, but being polite.

"She could give modeling a shot," his friend grinned wolfishly. "Hell, I'd but anything she had to sell."

"Yeah," Chuck broke in, "but then Sam'd flunk out of school, for missing class so he could follow her around to make sure nobodies puttin' the moves on his girl."

"Exactly," Sam grunted as he checked his watch again.

"I'd tell you to call her," Jess chuckled, "but here she comes now." She pointed out the window of the café that the friends had gathered in at Sam's behest. His head perked up and he watched her progress. She seemed fairly happy as she entered the building, to be greeted with a chorus of enthusiastic greetings.

"Hey everyone!" she returned before turning to kiss Sam's upturned face. She grinned and took the seat that he'd pulled out for her, removing her jacket as she did so. "Sorry, I'm late," she went on," but I got held up, getting…" she reached into her pocket and withdrew a small item, "this!"

"What's that?" Sam asked as he reached out for what looked like an identification card, but Chuck was faster.

"You joined Morgan's gym?" he asked of her and Max grinned.

"You could say that."

"You got a job at Morgan's Gym?" Alli surmised immediately and Max nodded. There was a chorus of congratulations, but Sam scooted a little closer to her, laying one arm across the back of her chair.

"A gym?" he asked softly. "Are you sure?"

"It'll be fine," Max assured him quietly.

"What?" Jess asked, being to Max's immediate right, was privy to the whispered conversation. Max turned to regard their friend as the whole table fell to silence.

"It was nothing, really," Max assured them. "Just some creep who wouldn't leave me alone when I was working out."

"You were seventeen and he put his hands on you," Sam muttered darkly, scowling down at the table.

"And hopefully he learned a valuable lesson about the basic English language that day," Max spoke teasingly.

"What happened?" Alli asked carefully.

"Oh, this guy wouldn't leave me alone, he made some rude suggestions and like Sam said, grabbed me," Max explained airily. "So I broke his jaw." There were stunned gasps all around.

"That was after she kicked him between the legs," Sam added, his lips twitching as Dale and Chuck winced.

"Good for you," Alli declared emphatically as Jess nodded her agreement. The waitress chose that moment to come take their orders, now that Max had arrived.

Once the woman was gone, Dale leaned forward, "so how'd you get the job? I didn't even know they were looking."

"They weren't, yet," Max chuckled. "I was down at the bakery and Mrs. Gutierrez was there, chatting with Lois," she directed that comment to Sam and Jess. The widowed woman had lived in Sam's apartment building and had moved out just a few months after Jess had moved in, taking over Sam's old apartment. Both knew her well enough to say hi and chat about her grandchildren.

"Anyways, we got to talking about her daughter Margie, who is seven months pregnant." There were nods of interest. "Apparently Margie's doctor recommended that she go on maternity leave sooner rather than later. It wasn't anything too serious, but being an aerobics instructor, she was on her feet quite a bit. So Margie was going to break the news to her boss, Steve Morgan, today."

There were some laughs.

"So you high tailed your little butt right over there, didn't you?" Chuck guffawed and Max nodded.

"I asked to see Steve and told him that I was interested in working there, as an aerobics instructor."

"And what did he say?" Sam smiled fondly, leaning back in his seat.

"He laughed," Max grinned. "Because Margie had just, and I do mean just, been in to tell him about having to move up her leave."

"He must have been thanking his lucky stars," Jess laughed.

"Well, he was actually pretty professional about it after that," Max admitted. "My lack of experience was a big negative. But, not having to advertise was a plus. I guess he's had trouble finding decent employees, which I capitalized on."

"Oh?" Sam asked. "How so?"

"Well, he's having to man the front desk and rotate other instructors through there since the secretary decided to stop showing up for work. I told him that if he had me covering just Margie's two classes, I could man the desk the rest of the time. See, Margie also has a nutrition class with Nikki, who is a dietitian. Nikki's going to do the class by herself."

"Man, you've had a busy morning," Jess chuckled.

"And that's not all,'" Max continued, her eyes sparkling. "See, while we were talking, the subject of the creep came up. I told Steve all about it and I said it was too bad that some more places don't teach self-defense classes." Jess and Alli were nodding. "And Steve got all excited, because Mitch, another instructor, had the same idea, except that he needed someone well trained in martial arts to help him run it. So I met Mitch, gave them a little demonstration and voila!"

"You got the job!" Sam crowed.

"For a trial run, starting Monday," Max cautioned. "at least for the aerobics. I'll be running the desk and teaching an eight week self-defense program regardless, once Mitch and I get things figured out."

"Oh, you'll be great," Sam assured her. "You know that." They shared a secret look and smiled tenderly at one another.

"Oh, but I was up front about your school situation," Max warned, suddenly recalling the other part of the interview. "But Steve figured that was okay, because if I don't, for some reason, work out for teaching, it still gives him some breathing room."

"Oh, well," Sam pursed his lips, "as to that, I uh, heard some news about that today." The group was quiet, aware that this was probably the reason why Sam had invited them out for lunch. "See, I got my interview, with Stanford and-!" Sam was cut off as Max threw her arms around his neck.

"Oh Sam! That's wonderful!" she gasped out. "Why on earth didn't you say something earlier?"

Sam shrugged, bemused. "Because you were so excited," he stated simply and Max snorted delicately.

"My news was just a job. Sam, this is your career! Your dream!"

"No," he grinned. "You're the dream. Everything else is just a bonus."

There sentimental noises from the girls and gagging noises from the guys, both of which were thoroughly ignored by the couple as they kissed. The food began arriving then and talk continued. Sam and Dale discussed the scholarship funds again. Dale noted that Sam had a good chance of securing another one. Max discussed her new class and the type of things that they should teach with the other girls. Jess and Alli were all for joining. Sam was pleased to hear that Max would be making more at the gym than she would have been, working full time at the store. She also would have gym privileges and a guest pass.

Sam watched her as she interacted with their friends. It didn't seem to matter where the conversation was turned to, she was knowledgeable and engaging. And though he knew it was a byproduct of Manticore's tinkering, her ability to process and track all of the different conversations going on around them was an amazing thing. But not nearly as wonderful as when she turned and flashed him a brief smile before turning back to what Dale was saying. And before he even realized that it was what he wanted, her hand had slipped into his. She didn't even seem to be paying attention to him, but knew precisely what was on his mind.

It just seemed to cement the decision that he'd already made. When lunch was finally over, they paid for their meals and began to scatter in their various directions. Dale, like Sam, had another class that afternoon and Sam offered him a ride. At Max's bike, she climbed on, but held her helmet in her lap.

"So, I'll see you tonight?" she smiled up at Sam.

"I might be a little late," Sam warned. "I have a couple of errands to run."

"Anything I can do?" she asked.

"Nope," Sam grinned. "Just have to stop at the dean's office about the interview appointment, the bank… shouldn't take too long."

"Okay," she nodded. "I'll see you at home then."

"Most definitely," Sam murmured, dropping a lingering kiss to her lips. She grinned and winked at him, waved at Dale and headed off. Sam watched her until she was out of sight and then moved over to the car where Dale was waiting.

"I've said it before and I'll say it again," the other man sighed, "you're one hell of a lucky guy."

"More than you know," Sam agreed readily, as he unlocked the car doors.

He ended up mildly distracted for the rest of the afternoon. Class couldn't hurry by soon enough for him . When it was finally over and the professor released them from their seats, Sam was out of there like a shot, not bothering conversing any with his class mates, like he usually did. He did stop in at the dean's office as he said he would. Upon explaining why he was there, the secretary told him that she'd find an appointment compatible with his class schedule. She'd call him with the specifics, she promised. Sam left, in even more of a hurry to get to his next stop, never noticing a thing around him until he found the place he wanted. He entered the cool interior and made his way to the displays to the main counter and waited until someone was free to help him. It was a young woman, probably mid to late twenties.

"How can I help you today sir?" she asked politely.

"Hi," Sam grinned and took a deep breath. "I'd like to look at your engagement rings, please."


	23. The Calm Before The Storm

Title: What If... Racing Towards Destiny

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Rating: PG-13- R

Genre: Crossover

Type: Romance

Pairing: Max Gueverra/ Sam Winchester

Summary: What if... Max had been having a different dream?

Spoilers/ Time line: This starts when Max is thirteen and going into heat for the very first time.

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first please.

A/N: This story, while being in the same universe as _When It Changes_, does not actually occur within that storyline. This fiction is just an off-shoot of what **might **have happened.

**Chapter Twenty-three**

**The Calm Before The Storm**

"Max? You home?" Sam called as he came through the front door.

"In the bathroom," she called back. Sam shucked his bag, jacket and shoes, leaving them at the closet. Max exited the bathroom, a towel over her head, wearing her bathrobe. "Hey sweetie," she greeted. "How was your day?" Sam accepted her hug, tweaking at the curls that peeked out from the towel, still damp from her shower.

"It was fine," Sam answered, leading her towards the sofa. "But I want to hear how your first day went."

"Why do you do that?" Max chuckled.

"Do what?" Sam asked with a laugh as he sat.

"Blow off what you were doing," Max answered as she settled into the sofa beside him. "Make my day more important than yours."

"Well my day was boring," Sam complained gently. "All I did was go to class. Besides, seeing you happy makes me happy. Is that a crime now?"

"No," Max laughed again, lifting her legs up to rest on the coffee table.

"So?"

"Oh okay," Max sighed as she removed the towel wrapped like a turban to rub at the ends of her damp hair. "Well, it was about what I expected. Margee was great. She's going to stay through this week and then she'll go on her maternity leave."

"So what all were you doing?" Sam asked, making himself comfortable as well.

"Well, I was leaning and running the desk until nine thirty and figuring out class schedules. Then Margee and I got ready for the ten o'clock class. It went well. Met a lot of people. Margee was just amazed that I had the routine down after one class."

"That photographic memory of yours kicking in, huh?" Sam teased, leaning back to wrap an arm around her. Max snuggled into him and continued.

"Child's play, really. The challenge will be knowing when to step it up so the group as a whole isn't plateauing. But keep it challenging until everyone's ready to move on."

"I can see that," Sam nodded.

"But anyway, I headed back to the desk after that, then lunch."

"Didn't you have a seniors class?"

"This afternoon," she confirmed. "Again, same deal. We go a little slower and gentler with them. But it was actually more fun."

"Really?" Sam was mildly surprised. "How so?"

"Well," Max grinned, "the younger women are driven, you know? They're there to work out. The seniors are a mixed group, there to do a little working out, visit with friends."

"So they're the fun bunch?" Sam laughed.

"And matchmakers," Max added in a wry tone. "You wouldn't believe how many of them thought I should meet their son, grandson and in one case, plural, since all of her grandchildren would love me."

"And you refused of course," Sam raised an eyebrow, but Max looked up at him in consternation.

"Why would I do that? It would have hurt their feelings."

"So what?" Sam scoffed. "You're going to cheat on me just to keep a bunch of old biddies happy?"

"It would serve you right if I did," Max scolded lightly, giving his ribs a poke, "just for thinking that."

"Well, I'm sorry," Sam sighed, trying to fight off a smile. "Can you blame me for getting jealous of... how many guys are we talking about here?"

"Um, last count, several dozen," Max giggled and Sam shifted, about to protest again. "And I said that I didn't refuse meeting them," Max continued over him. "I simply told them all the various things that we, as in these young men, I and _my boyfriend_ could do."

"Did they take the hint?" Sam grunted.

"God, you're so possessive," Max rolled her eyes.

"Again, can you blame me?" Sam demanded, wrapping both arms around her shoulders, kissing and then nuzzling her neck. Max poked him once more in the ribs, giggling at him.

"Actually they want to meet you too," she chuckled. "Cause you know, where there's single grandsons..."

"There's single granddaughters," Sam groaned. "Oh what did we do to deserve this?"

Max laughed heartily. "They don't mean any harm, Sam."

"I know," he grinned, but then turned serious. "So it was a good day?" he asked. "No problems of any sorts?"

"No. No problems," Max confirmed, knowing precisely what he was concerned over. "Everyone was really friendly. A few guys called me perky, but I think it was in reference to my attitude and not... um, other things."

"Better not have been," Sam muttered darkly.

"Well, since Steve commented on it as well, I'm going with that idea since he seems to be a little too smart to get involved with sexually harassing his employees."

"Uh huh," Sam smirked. "So you think it's a good job?"

Max nodded. "I'm liking it more than the store already. I mean, I get to do physical stuff, 'cause you know I just hate sitting around. And I don't have to lug stuff around, except for helping to restock the equipment store."

"Don't you sit at the desk?" Sam asked, puzzled. Max shook her head.

"There's a chair there, but I only used it when I ate lunch and a few times for long phone conversations."

"Well," Sam smiled happily. "I'm glad you like it."

"Oh, I think you'll like it too," Max quirked an eyebrow at him and Sam gave her a questioning glance. "I told you that I can get a guest pass for you, right?"

"Oh," Sam groaned, letting his head fall back against the sofa. "You're not gonna put me through the paces, like Dean used to, are you?"

"Well, unlike your brother," Max wiggled her nose, "I planned on motivating you, with me in a very tight Lycra workout outfit and the promise of a nice long soak in the hot tub afterwards."

"They have a hot tub?" Sam's eye's lit up.

"And a sauna," Max chuckled. "Mitch was telling me that he and Sara, his wife, enjoy spending time once a week playing racquetball together and of course, the hot tub afterwards."

"Well that sounds good," Sam shrugged. "Except I don't play racquetball."

"Mitch and Steve give lessons," Max told him with a barely concealed smirk. "Group or private, beginner to advanced and you'd get the employee family discount."

Sam grinned. "Would this be your way of telling me that you'd like us to take lessons?"

"Only if you're interested," Max replied seriously. "And it can be something else. Doesn't have to be raquetball."

Sam tilted his head to the side consideringly. "That sounds like it could be fun," he decided. "Honestly, I've been feeling kind of sedentary lately."

"Well that works out then," Max decided contentedly. "Oh, speaking of Mitch and Sara, would you mind if I invited them over to dinner sometime soon? Mitch and I have to sit down and figure out our self-defense class."

"That'd be fine," Sam nodded. "This weekend?"

Max pursed her lips and thought it over. "I'll ask what would be good for them. They may want to line up a sitter."

"They've got kids?"

"Three," Max nodded. "All of them in school," she continued. "The youngest just started first grade."

"Well they'd be welcome too," Sam said quickly.

"That's sweet honey," Max patted his knee, "but the burden of entertaining would fall on you. And I bet Sara would enjoy an evening off. She works at home."

"Okay," Sam nodded. "That'd be fine."

"Besides," Max shrugged, "you'll probably get to meet them all soon anyway. Margee says that Steve and his wife throw a great family oriented Christmas party each year. They also do a family day at the gym a few times a year."

"This is sounding like a more excellent place all the time," Sam teased but Max smiled happily as she snuggled in closer to him.

"Yeah, I think I may have finally found my niche."

Max's cell phone rang just as she pulled into the curb at home. Quickly cutting the engine, she reached for her phone, checking on who was calling her. It was Jess, though it wasn't much of a surprise. Max had been expecting a call at any point since Jess and her boyfriend Caden had gone away together the past weekend. And she knew that it wouldn't have been Sam, because he was in his essay writing class until seven that evening.

"Hola girlfriend," she answered, her tone slightly cheeky.

"Hey sweetie," Jess answered back, her voice brimming with happiness. "This a bad time?"

"Nope. I just and I do mean just, got home from work," Max laughed. "I haven't even gotten in the front door yet."

"I'm sorry," Jess chuckled. "I'm not sure of your new schedule yet."

"No problem," Max dismissed, but as she unlocked the door, she heard the other telephone ringing. "Oh shoot," she muttered.

"What?"

"Other line," Max grunted in explanation.

"Oh okay," Jess chirped. "You can call me back."

Max agreed and hung up her phone just as she picked up the house phone. "Hello?" she greeted, striving not to sound out of breath.

"Hello," a woman's voice answered back. "This is Teresa, from the Dean's office. I was wondering if I could leave a message for Samuel Winchester?" It threw Max for just the tiniest moment, since most people actually asked to speak with the person first before mentioning a message.

"Uh, sure." But apparently, Max's split second hesitation registered with the other woman, because she laughed.

"Sorry," Teresa apologized. "It's just, I have his class schedule before me. I just thought I'd call before I left for the evening in case he had an answering machine. I know he was anxious to hear about his interview. Actually, I haven't met a student yet that isn't." She chuckled again and Max gave a wry smile as she reached for a pen and the pad of paper that they kept on the counter for moments like these.

"I can imagine," Max murmured. "All right, I'm ready for the information." The woman dutifully relayed the date and time of the interview and after writing it down, Max echoed it back.

"Now, if that doesn't work, Mr. Winchester will need to let me know as soon as possible," Teresa instructed.

"I don't believe it will be a problem," Max mused. "But why don't I take your number now, just in case?"

"Certainly," Teresa spoke the Dean's office number slowly and Max unnecessarily repeated it back after again, having written it down. "That's it then," Teresa's voice sounded relieved.

"Well thank you very much," Max grinned. "Hope you have a good night."

"You too," the woman replied gently and they hung up. Max fingered the pad of paper and thoughtfully turned to the calendar. She flipped up the sheet to the next month and switching to a pencil, lightly wrote in Sam's appointment on the correct date. She dropped the calendar sheet and set the pencil back in the box, next reaching for the phone book. One more call and then she'd call Jess back. She was done in a matter of minutes. Jess picked up immediately when she called her back, having been waiting for Max's call.

"Sorry 'bout that," Max spoke lightly. "It was the Dean's office calling about Sam's interview."

"Oh good news," Jess bubbled. "Is it soon?"

"Start of next month," Max related. "That's a couple weeks off. Which is good. Gives him time to prepare, but not so long that he drives himself nuts about it."

"Exactly," Jess agreed. "But then, I'm sure you already know how to calm him down."

Max laughed. "My ways are many and varied, yet not so mysterious."

"As the majority of womanhood will attest to." They both laughed.

"But hey, speaking of," Max changed the subject slightly, "are you free for a little shopping tomorrow... or whenever?"

"I'm always up for shopping," Jess enthused. "What are we looking for?"

"A knock his socks off dress," Max supplied promptly.

"Oho," Jess cooed. "And this will be for...?"

"Mm, I was thinking of taking him out the evening after his interview, do a little celebrating, that sort of thing," Max giggled.

"My, we certainly sound sure that he's going to get in," Jess teased.

"Jess," Max countered seriously, "if there's one thing in this world I'm sure about, it's Sam."

"Aw," Jess crooned. "You guys are just so... aw!"

"Yup," Max grinned. "Actually, I made the reservation right before I called you back."

"Well then I can definitely help you with the shopping," Jess agreed. "Are we going to be keeping this a secret?"

"Yeah, I think so," Max decided. "It'll be fun to surprise him. Now, tell me how your weekend with Caden went."

After Jess hung up from talking with Max, she immediately dialed Sam's cell phone. He probably wasn't out of class yet, but she didn't want to wait. Indeed, he didn't answer and when it put her into voice mail, Jess grinned. "Hey sweetie, it's me," she announced. "Remember when you mentioned that you wanted to plan a romantic evening for Max? Well a little birdy happened to tell me that she's planning a surprise dinner for you early next month. Call me back if you want the details. And remember, sh! It's a secret!" Satisfied that she'd pique his interest, Jess hung up and turned her attention to her growling stomach.

Sam took a moment in the car to paste a slight scowl on his face. After his conversation with Jessica, he was definitely in a better mood. But as Jess had said, he didn't want to give anything away. He climbed out of the car and headed up to the house. He entered and shut the door and flung his bag to the floor with a little more force than necessary. "Max?" he called out heavily.

"In the kitchen sweetie," she called back. His lips twitched as he headed that way. She was standing at the stove, sliding some fresh vegetables from the cutting board into a pot. Sam slipped up behind her and wrapped his arms about her waist, resting his cheek on the crown of her head.

"Mmm, something smells delicious," he whispered.

"It's just casserole and veggies," she told him, patting his hand with her free one and sounding amused.

"I wasn't talking about the food," he murmured, holding her a little tighter. She angled her head up and around to regard him.

"You okay?" she asked sympathetically.

"Rough day," he sighed. "Professor Normans is still busting my chops about my writing," he told her honestly.

"I'm sorry," she told him simply.

"It's too bad the course is mandatory. If it wasn't, I'd drop it."

"Well," she began logically, "since they're going to be expecting you to write up legal briefs and such, some rudimentary writing skills are nice."

"Rudimentary I can do," Sam scoffed. "But Normans just nitpicks so much!"

"Well you know honey," Max continued in the same tone, "not every professor is going to automatically adore you."

"I know," he grumbled. Max leaned forward to adjust the dial at the back of the stove, grunting when Sam didn't release his hold on her. She laughed and turned in his arms, wrapping her arms about his neck.

"Tell you what," she smiled up at him. "Dinner's not quite ready yet. Why don't you go have a nice hot relaxing shower?"

"Sounds good," Sam agreed, touching a kiss to her nose. "Are you going to join me?"

"I would honey," she frowned slightly, "but I need to stay here with the veggies." Sam pouted a little and Max smiled indulgently. "Or, we could always have a hot bath together, after dinner."

"That one," Sam decided with an alacrity that made her laugh. His arms tightened about her again, but she pressed one hand to his chest.

"Before you try distracting me again," she mockingly scolded, "Teresa from the dean's office called about your appointment."

Sam's face brightened. "She did?"

Max nodded. "I wrote it down and penciled it in on the calendar. You need to call her back as soon as possible if there's a problem." Sam let her loose to go over and read the message.

"Nope," he nodded once, his mood even brighter now. "This'll be just fine. Hmm, gives me time to prepare."

"That's what I thought," Max told him as she stirred the sauce she was preparing.

"Do I need to call her back to confirm?" Sam asked, glancing at the phone number listed there.

"No, I don't think so," Max shook her head. "That was just for if you couldn't make the appointment."

"All right," Sam took a pen from the counter and mimicked Max's actions of earlier, marking the date with permanency. Setting the pen back down, he sighed. "Well, since you're so cruelly denying me physical comfort after my hard toils of the day, I guess I'll set the table." Affecting an injured air, he moved to the cupboard to retrieve some plates. He chuckled as he heard her muttering under her breath.

"...peach bubble bath makes it all better."

"What was that?" he asked teasingly.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Max sassed back as she reached for the oven mitts.

"Something about peach bubble bath?" he winked.

"Mm, no," Max shrugged. "I was just thinking that I should see if Jess is free on Thursday."

"What's Thursday?" Sam asked, returning to the counter for utensils.

"A day of the week that generally comes after Wednesday," Max stuck her tongue out at him.

"Generally?" he poked fun at her. "I thought it was usually."

"Always!" Max scoffed as she bent over to retrieve the casserole dish from the oven.

"No seriously," Sam grinned as he set out the forks. "What's up Thursday?"

"Well, I need some new shoes for work," Max explained. "And I asked Jess if she was free to go shopping with me. I thought Thursday would be better than tomorrow, since you have class that night."

"Max," Sam caught her hand as she shook the oven mitt loose, "baby, you don't have to be here every second that I am. I can survive a few hours without you. Oh! Or better yet, I can go shopping with you. I'm going to need some new dress shoes, or something for my interview."

"After what happened last time?" Max scoffed. "I've learned my lesson about shopping with you."

"Yeah," Sam scoffed right back, "well, if you hadn't dragged me into Victoria's Secrets, I would have been just fine."

"Actually, that was kind of fun," Max chuckled. "I haven't seen you blush like that in years!"

"Well it wasn't from embarrassment, I'll tell you that," Sam growled.

"Not at first anyway," Max teased. "But if you need shoes that's fine. We can go tomorrow and Jess and I can go Thursday."

"All right," Sam laughed, giving in. "That's what we'll do." They carried the food to the table and sat to eat.

"And Jess wanted me to ask you," Max continued, carrying on the vein of conversation, "if we were joining the gang for Halloween this year."

Sam frowned as he returned to the refrigerator for a drink. "I thought we were going to stay home and hand out candy, like last year."

"Well, that's what I told Jess," Max supplied. "And she was ragging on us for being party poopers."

"She actually said that?" Sam laughed.

"Uh huh," Max smiled. "Apparently someone and she won't say who, wants to dress up the whole group in a theme... thing or something."

"Costumes?" Sam scoffed as he resumed his seat.

"I'm more scared of the theme idea," Max returned as she dished up a portion of the chicken and rice. They glanced at one another and said at the same time, "Alli!" and then both burst out laughing.

"She told me that her entire family once dressed up as the Sherwood Forest gang," Max got out between chuckles.

"Really?" Sam guffawed.

"And her grandma was Friar Tuck."

"That would have been…"

"Scary?" Max supplied. "Actually, she looked pretty neat. Allie showed me the pictures once. She had the fake beard and everything."

"Well," Sam grinned, "as _neat_ as that sounds, um…"

"I'm not into costumes either,"" Max pursed her lips teasingly and Sam's eyebrows rose.

"Mm, I think I'm starting to rethink my position on dressing up," he sighed happily.

"You mean changing your mind on _my_ dressing up," Max corrected with a laugh. "But you should consider, what if Alli gets everyone to go with a different theme or movie? Like say… The Rocky Horror Picture Show?" Sam's face took on a pinched look and then he shuddered. "Uh oh," Max muttered, "maybe I went too far."

"You think?" Sam asked sarcastically.

"Well," Max sighed, "how about we go out for a while, no costumes?"

"If you'd like to we could," Sam agreed. "What time is everyone getting together?"

"Around nine," she answered. "So most of the trick and treaters should be done by then."

"And if they're not, we can just leave the candy on the porch," Sam added.

"It'd be gone in two seconds," Max pointed out dryly. "And we might come home to find the house completely egged and T.P.'d."

Sam sucked in a huge lungful of air. "Well," he sighed deeply, "I guess that's just a risk that we'll have to be willing to take."

"All right," Max giggled. "Now eat. I'm into the mood for a bath."

"With peach bubbles?" Sam's eyes twinkled.

"If you're lucky!"

"Trick or treat!" Some familiar voices called out through the door, following a knock. Both Sam and Max, recognizing Trish and Dennis' voices, rose to answer the summons.

"Have you got the camera?" Max asked and Sam held up his filled hand, giving her an amused grin. Max grabbed the bowl of candy situated next to the door. The kids, of all ages, had been prowling the streets, even before the couple had arrived home. Max pulled open the door to greet their neighbor.

"Oh my goodness!" Max grinned. "Who is this little butterfly on my porch?" She gazed down at the little girl, bending over to talk to the almost two year old. The girl gave Max a small scowl.

"'s Tasa!" she announced. Max pursed her lips and touched one finger to the girl's chin and tilted her little face up.

"Well I'll be! It is the Tash-monster!" The girl giggled and Sam knelt down to her level.

"Hey Tasha," he greeted with a huge grin. "Do I get to take your picture?"

"No!" the child announced authoritatively. "Ah-yup Sam!" Sam ducked his chin, trying not to laugh at the child's antics. Instead, he held out his arms and lifted the girl up, trying not to be poked with the pom-pom balls attached by wire to a headband. Max easily took the camera from him, replacing it with the large plastic bowl.

"Come in," she gestured to Tasha's parents.

"Just for a minute," Trish sighed as she and Dennis stepped in. "You guys are our last stop."

"She wore you out, huh?" Max teased.

"Everything wears her out these days," Dennis confided as Trish nodded.

"You can't have them all kiddo!" Sam's laugh broke through and the other adults turned to see Tasha with both hands in the bowl of candy, while Sam tried to juggle bowl and child without dropping either. Max quickly snapped off a shot while Trish groaned.

"Jeepers Tash, don't get greedy."

"Just take one Tasha," Dennis instructed, reaching out to help Sam. While the men dealt with the typical childhood greed, Max turned back to Trish.

"So what's the doctor say?"

Trish rolled her eyes. "Same as last time," Trish groused. "Everything's okay and the morning sickness should ease up sometime soon. Gah! I was never this sick with Tash."

"Yeah," Max chuckled, "and you also weren't chasing after a toddler for the better part of your waking hours."

"That's true," the other woman conceded. "It's worth it in the end, though. That's what I keep telling myself."

"Of course it is," Max grinned. "Otherwise, the world's population wouldn't be what it is." Trish smiled and then turned to the others to tell her daughter that it was time to leave. The girl gave Sam and then Max, sticky kisses on the cheek and happily headed off with her recently acquired loot. They bypassed a new group of children clambering up the porch steps, kids that Max and Sam knew from around the neighborhood. They dutifully exclaimed over the costumes and chatted with chaperone's as they handed out the candy.

The waves of visitors to the house began to wane just after eight o'clock. Which was just as well since they were nearly out of candy. Max took the opportunity to change, since she had just thrown on a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants when she'd gotten home from work. And while they were still adamantly against costumes, Max still felt like looking a little better than she currently did. And she knew that it was worth the effort by the way Sam's eyes glistened with anticipation and the way he trailed after her as she puttered around the house until they were finally ready to leave.

The group had decided on a lounge to meet at. Max threw on her jacket and made sure she had her keys. Since she still wasn't of a legal age and all their friends knew it, she usually acted as designated driver, but at home it was a different situation. She'd told Sam that with her high metabolism, alcohol affected her much differently. And since their friends had snuck in some underage drinking themselves, they were understanding and even teasing about it. But there was no point in drawing attention to herself in public. Sam locked the front door and pulled it shut behind them. He laced his fingers with hers and they walked together to the car. He released her and moved around to the driver's side. Max didn't mind. She always considered the car to be more Sam's than hers, since he used it so much more, even though it was in both of their names on the lease.

But on the reverse side, Sam was adamant about Max's bike being hers. She's given him blanket permission to use it if he needed or wanted. But on the rare occasion that he had indulged, he'd always made sure to run it by her first. As they drove, they commented on the various costumes they saw. Most of the children were off the street by that point in time, but teens and young adults were still roaming around. Some of the costumes were quite ingenious. By the time they arrived at the lounge, all of their friends were already there. And all of them in costume.

"Hey!" Jess pouted. "You didn't dress up."

"Told you Jess," Max grinned as she pulled out a chair to sit at the large table they'd snagged. "Sam and I just aren't big into Halloween."

"Says the woman who bought at least twenty bags of candy," Sam teased.

"Which kept you in midnight snacks for several days," Max teased right back.

"Hey, those fueled my nightly study sessions," Sam protested.

"Which got you all hopped up on sugar and climbing the walls," Max reminded him dryly.

"Yeah, but you didn't seem to mind all that extra energy," he taunted with a gleam in his eyes.

"Except when I was trying to sleep!" she retorted. The group chuckled at their banter. Sam squeezed her shoulder.

"Want anything to drink?"

"Soda is fine," she answered, patting his hand where it still rested. He nodded and moved off, followed by Chuck and Dale. Max turned to regard Jess. "So? Slutty Nurse?"

Jess glanced down at herself. "It's funnier when Caden and I stand together."

"Where's he at?" Max wondered aloud.

Jess' eyes scanned the bar until she found her boyfriend and pointed him out. "There. He's talking to Tom." Max followed the direction she was pointing in, seeing Alli's boyfriend, Tom, dressed as an old fashioned barkeep; which obviously matched Alli's outfit of a tavern wench.

"Wait!" she started in surprise. "The old man? That's Caden?" Jess nodded. "Wow, his make-up is excellent!"

"Yeah," Jess agreed, somewhat gloomily. "A… friend of his from the drama department did it for him." Max caught the hesitation and glanced from Jess' averted face to Alli. The other woman gave her a tight smile and a quick, jerky shake of her head.

"A female friend?" Max asked cautiously and quietly as Jess nodded slowly.

"One that he talks to constantly on the phone and meets for drinks a couple times a week," Jess confirmed.

"Oh Jess," Max sighed. "I'm sorry." Jess shrugged awkwardly.

"I don't think he's actually cheated on me, yet, but… well, things have kind of gone down hill recently."

"Have you talked to him about it?" Max asked seriously.

"What's there to talk about?" Jess answered her friend, sounding miserable.

"Hey!" Max protested. "Don't go falling into that trap," she warned. "I mean, look what happened to Sam and I." Jess ducked her head and blushed, recalling the part she had played in almost breaking up the couple.

"Exactly," Alli took the chance to jump into the conversation. "There might be a perfectly reasonable explanation for this."

"And if it's what I think it it?" Jess demanded archly.

Alli shrugged. "Then you need to clear the air instead of you both being miserable all the time."

"She's right," Max concurred gently. "Don't do this to yourself." Jess nodded sadly as both women crowded in closer to her, grateful for the physical, not to mention the emotional support form them.

"What's up with Jess?" Sam, asked of his friends, watching the scene at their table as he leaned against the bar. They were waiting for someone to get free to take their order.

"Don't know man," Chuck shrugged. "I think she and her boy had a fight. They've been avoiding each other since they got here."

"Huh," Sam grunted and turned around when he saw the waitress out of the corner of his eye. He put in his order to her and the others followed suit.

"Actually," Dale sighed, "I think it's more than that." Sam and Chuck turned to regard him. "I saw Caden the other night. With a girl who wasn't Jess." Eyebrows rose and grunts were made. "I didn't know if I should say anything," he finished with a shrug.

"Well, judging by that," Sam gestured at the women sharing hugs and patting Jess' back, "I'd say that she already knows." All three men watched for a moment.

"Poor kid," Dale sympathized. "She shouldn't have to be with a jerk like that."

"Yeah, I never liked him anyway," Chuck grunted.

"Yup," Sam nodded his agreement thoughtfully. "Jess is way too good for him." All three leaned back against the bar.

"So what're we going to do about it?" Dale wondered aloud. "Kick the crap outta him?"

"Egg his truck!" Chuck suggested and Sam laughed.

"I don't know about you two, but I am going to stay out of it."

"Wimp!" Chuck taunted.

"Prudent," Sam corrected. "You really think I'm going to risk getting my butt chewed out by Jess _and then_ by Max, for sticking my nose in?"

"He's a whipped wimp!" Dale teased.

"I may be whipped," Sam grinned widely, "but out of the three of us, who's guaranteed to be going home with a gorgeous woman tonight?"

"I hate you man," Dale laughed and turned back to the bar to pay for the drinks just delivered. He waved away Sam and Chuck's money and both thanked him. Sam gathered up his and Max's drinks. They all headed back to the table, cautious that they weren't intruding on the female's moment of solidarity. The smiles told them they were again welcome. But instead of taking an empty seat, Dale set Jess' drink before her and then squatted down next to her.

"Hey Jess?" he grinned.

"Yeah?" she half turned back to face him.

"Can you do me a favor?"

"What's that?"

"Well, see," Dale nervously rubbed on finger along the bridge of his nose," there's this girl I've had my eye on and well…"

"Aw," Jess cooed, seemingly glad for the distraction from her own problems. "Are you getting all shy again?"

"You know me," Dale chuckled, ducking his head down. "Anyway, would you dance with me? Kinda get me out there?"

"Sure, no problem," Jess smiled as she ruffled his hair, took a quick sip of beer and then pushed her chair back. Dale took her hand and led her out to the dance floor. The remaining group watched their progress.

"God, he's got it bad," Max sighed.

"You know it," Alli piped up, leaning forward. "Think she'll notice finally?"

"It's possible," Max shrugged. "But tonight's not the best time."

"No, she's gotta deal first," Alli nodded her agreement.

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked with a puzzled frown.

"Dale's crush," Max announced, reaching for her drink.

"On who?" Sam asked.

"He didn't say anything!" Chuck cried out at the same time. They both craned their necks, trying to spot the girl who might potentially be Dale's type while Max and Alli shared a grin with one another.

"Ahem," Max cleared her throat. "You're looking in the wrong direction."

Sam's eyes started looking the other way. "You know who she is?"

"Well of course we do," Alli snorted.

"Who?" Chuck demanded, his head also turned around. "Where?"

"He's dancing with her," Max informed them smugly. Both male's eyes snapped back to the couple on the dance floor and then to the women at the table.

"Dale likes Jessica?" Sam demanded in belief.

"No way!" Chuck grunted.

"Are you sure?" Sam grunted as well, looking back to the couple on the dance floor that was laughing about something.

"Of course we're sure," Max snorted. "We've known for a long time."

"Wait, how do you know?" Chuck demanded.

Alli wiggled her eyebrows at him. "How does any woman know when a guy is interested?" she countered. Sam and Chuck stared at each other for a moment, both thinking over Dale's past behavior and the undeniable proof offered there.

"He's a goner," Sam laughed.

"Yup," Chuck agreed gravely and then rapped his knuckles against the table. "Well, I guess I'll go let Tom in on the plan." He left before anyone protested and the women turned at once to Sam, who waited patiently for the questions he knew were coming.

"What plan is he talking about?" Max demanded and Sam shrugged.

"Well, Dale saw Caden out with another woman-!"

"The _friend_," Max and Alli said together.

"And we didn't like what it probably meant," Sam sighed.

"So what did you plan on doing?" Max grimaced. She could just guess at what that might be, but turned out pleasantly surprised.

"Well, we could have done all sorts of nasty things," Sam grinned, "but without knowing for sure, we decided to just ignore him for now."

"You mean a freeze out?" Alli asked, amused as Sam nodded. "But I thought you guys liked Caden?"

"He's okay?" Sam frowned, "but Jess is our friend, not him."

Chuck returned with Tom in tow, just in time to see both women giving Sam enthusiastic kisses on his cheeks.

"So how's it going?" Max asked of her friend, several hours later, as she took a seat beside Jess at the bar. "I notice that Caden left."

"Yep," Jess confirmed without turning to look at her friend. "He was 'getting tired' and 'not having fun'," Jess quoted derisively.

"And…?"

"And since I heard him on the phone, making plans to meet _her_ at _their bar_, well…"

"Ah Jess," Max sighed. "I'm sorry. Do you want a ride home?"

"Eventually," Jess decided gloomily. "But first, I intend on getting piss drunk."

"Okay," Max smiled sympathetically and caught the bartender's eye. After they had their drinks refilled, Max sighed again. "Well, maybe it's better that you found out now, rather than later. You know, before things got really serious."

"That's the problem though," Jess frowned. "I think I was getting serious."

"Really?" Max asked with some surprise, though she strove to hide it.

"Yeah," Jess nodded. "I mean, not you and Sam or Alli and Tom serious, but… you know."

"Yeah," Max gave her friend a little grin and a gentle nudge from her elbow. "Can't get much more serious than that."

"Well, you could," Jess teased suddenly, her eye brightening for a moment.

"Huh?"

"Oh come on," Jess snorted. "You mean to tell me that you and Sam have never talked about getting married, having kids, you know? The whole American dream?" Max shrugged. "Seriously?" Jess scoffed.

"Well," Max squirmed a little at the new subject. "You know, with divorce rates rising all the time, why bother?"

Sam stopped short as he overheard that, his breath rushing from his lungs, leaving him feeling winded. Never once, not in all their time together and especially since he'd made the decision to ask her, did Sam even think that Max might not want to be his wife.

"But jeez!" Jess continued. "You guys have already been together longer than some marriages I know."

"Exactly!" Max pointed out. "And we didn't need rings on our fingers to do it."

"So you're telling me," Jess scoffed, "that if Sam proposed…?" Sam held his breath as Jess asked the question he desperately needed an answer for.

"But he hasn't," Max pointed out reasonably.

"But if he did," Jess persisted and she seemed as boggled as Sam was by Max's opinion on the subject.

"Why are we talking and worrying about something that's _not_ happening?" Max chuckled. "Sam and I are fine just the way we are."

"I know," Jess responded automatically, but gave a disbelieving shake of her head. "But honestly, if Sam walked up to you, right now, dropped down to one knee, handed you a ring and said 'Max I love you desperately and I want to marry you-!', … what would you do?"

Max looked down at her drink and fiddled with the tiny neon orange straw.

"Come on!" Jess whined, smacking one hand against the counter top. Sam felt the same inclination as his gut twisted and churned, waiting for her answer. Finally Max wet her lips delicately and gave her friend a shy sort of peeking glance.

"I'd say yes," she announced in a small voice that Sam had to strain to hear. "In a heartbeat."

"Ah! I knew it!" Jess crowed as she threw her arms around her friend. Sam's heart soared and he finally let loose of the jeweler's box that he'd been carrying around in his pocket since he'd picked it up the day before. Max accepted her friend's hug, but then pulled back and held up a warning finger.

"But now, not a word," she directed. "Don't go running to Sam, trying to plant ideas in his head!"

"I won't," Jess promised solemnly through her wide grin.

Sam didn't bother hiding his. Even though he was tempted to do as Jess had said and propose right here and now, he held himself back. He really didn't want her thinking that he was proposing just because she had admitted that she wanted it. Of course, having the ring with him would be hopefully, a clear indication that he wasn't being forced into asking her. But no, Monday was better. The whole romantic setting would be in place and she wouldn't have any idea, because she had been the one who had planned it all. And if she did happen to believe that Jess had planted the seed, well, he'd just have to show her the date on the receipt from the jewelry store. Feeling immensely relieved, he listened in again to their conversation.

"… kind of wedding would you have?" Jess was asking.

:Oh jeez," Max laughed. "All respects to the girly arts Jess, but I'm not just the kind to dream about stuff like that."

"Okay, I know," Jess laughed. "But still, wouldn't you love a huge wedding? Like Kara's? All the music and the flowers…?" Jess sighed, revealing her own sentimentality.

"And all the headaches of scheduling, catering, guests and costs?" Max snorted. "No thanks!"

"So you'd want something simple?" Jess clarified. Max tilted her head to the side and then nodded as Sam systematically filed this information away in his mind.

"Maybe something small and intimate," Max decided. "You know, just Sam's family, really close friends, and of course, Molly."

"Your adopted Grandma?" Jess asked and Max nodded. Sam grinned at that. There was no way they could leave Molly out of the plan. She'd skin them alive if that happened.

"So what kind of dress?" Jess went on.

"Who says I'd wear a dress?" Max scoffed. And suddenly, Sam had the image of them riding off into the sunset in leather chaps on Max's Ninja. She'd love that.

"Oh please," Jess scoffed. "You must have pictured some kind of outfits… well maybe not…" Max laughed again. "Okay," Jess seemed really into the discussion. "So would you go the traditional route?"

"Right," Max drawled. "Like I'd want to be trussed up in some puffed up tulle explosion! And besides, years too late to be wearing white."

"I know," Jess chuckled. "And yeah, you're not the lacy, poofy type. But- oh! I saw the most gorgeous dress the other day. It was this creamy ivory color, slinky, ankle length gown with spaghetti straps and-!" Jess broke off suddenly and began to giggle.

"What?" Max asked, her lips already twitching in response.

"I'm sorry," Jess gasped for air. "I just suddenly had this image of you in it and Sam's so tall…" she broke off, laughing again. Max's face scrunched up as she tried to discern what was so funny about that.

"Uh huh," she grunted.

"Sorry," Jess tittered. "Just… wedding ceremony, cleavage factor, he'd be so totally distracted!"

"I suppose," Max drawled laconically. "But do you really think I need a white dress and a little cleavage to distract Sam?" Her eyes twinkled as she regarded Jess.

"Oh my God, no!" Jess shrieked and then said more quietly, "believe me, I've seen the way he looks at you?"

"And how's that?" Max grinned.

"Like a cat that's about to dive into a vat of cream," Jess laughter was unabated and Max chuckled along with her.

And Sam, having been so happily envisioning Max just as Jess had described her in that wedding dress, decided that now would be a really good time to go home. He approached them, a grin plastered on his face as he beheld his girlfriend, soon to be fiancée. "What's so funny?" he asked as he stopped at Max's side.

"Current fashion," Max replied immediately, which sent Jess off into gales of laughter again.

"Ah," Sam sighed. "I can see that. I'm still having trouble with past fashion. I mean, like body piercing? I just don't get it?"

"Who does?" Jess snorted derisively.

"I mean, if it's culturally significant, then okay," he continued, "but some of the things people come up with? Kind of stupid."

"Oh really?" Max asked quietly. "Because I was thinking of getting my belly button pierced."

"Really?" Jess asked with interest.

"Yeah," Max enthused, covertly watching Sam's reaction out of the corner of her eye. She leaned back slightly on her stool, poking at her stomach. "I thought a little diamond or something…"

"Oh, especially with those low-rider jeans you just bought the other day," Jess enthused. "And a baby T."

"But if you think it's stupid," Max sighed, faking disappointment.

"Well now," Sam hastily backpedaled. "I meant that… like… uh!" But the girls were already laughing at him. Sam growled and caught Max around the waist, hauling her to him and planting a playful, wet kiss on her neck. "You ready to go?" he whispered huskily into her ear, setting his bottle of beer on the counter.

"Jess needs a ride home," Max replied, ignoring his more than obvious desire.

"She can go with Tom and Alli," he countered.

"They already left babe," she informed him. "Alli's got a shift tomorrow morning."

"Jess!" Sam called without looking back at her.

"Yo!"

"You ready to go?"

"Nope!"

"Well get ready," he told her imperiously and Max began to giggle again as Jess made humorous faces out of his eye line.

"No way," Jess announced. "I don't have nearly enough shots in me!"

"We'll buy you a bottle at the liquor store," he announced.

"Oh right," Jess snorted. "Like I really want to sit at home, drinking all by myself. That's pathetic." Sam rolled his eyes and Max laid a hand on his chest.

"We also need to give Chuck and Dale a ride," she reminded him. "I don't think they should walk home."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right," he gave in. Of course, it wasn't like he and Max wouldn't get home eventually.

"I'll tell you what," Max decided. "You go round up those two and I'll get party girl here ready to go. If they want to keep drinking, they can do it at one of their places. And then just crash when they're ready. Sound good Jess?" she raised her voice to get her friend's attention.

"As long as there's a bottle of tequila somewhere in the deal, then whoo!"

Max shook her head and grinned.

"All right," Sam conceded, squeezing her hand. He headed off for his appointed task, which actually took very little in the way of convincing, especially on Dale's part. Soon enough, they had all clambered into Sam and Max's car. Max, who had already gotten the keys from Sam earlier that evening, climbed into the driver's seat.

As she pulled on her seat belt, she asked, "so, whose house did you decide on?"

"Yours!" the trio from the back guffawed. At that, Sam thudded his head back against the seat, making a soft, thunking noise.

"My house?" Max chuckled. "Why my house?"

"Spare bed, couches, full fridge," Dale enumerated.

"Yo, I am not sleepin' on the floor tonight!" Chuck added.

"All right," Max agreed amicably as she started the engine and threw a twinkling, impish grin at Sam. "Going rate for the bed is a hundred dollars per night, couches are seventy-five. Make your own arrangements. Cash only by the way. Food is charged by the pound. And if anyone pukes anywhere but the toilet bowl, and I do mean _anywhere_ else, that person or persons will be cleaning my house for the next month!"

"Uh," Chuck stuttered out, "on second thought…" Sam laughed at how neatly she'd routed their drunken antics.

"You know," he pointed out," Chuck's place is closest to the liquor store." That statement struck them all as funny.

"All right," Chuck conceded. "Ignore the mess and you guys get the floor."

"Who says we plan on sleeping," Jess retorted, a little indignant. The merriment continued as Max drove. She and Sam pretty much ignored the others, holding hands as she guided the car through the streets. She eventually pulled into the parking lot of the liquor store.

"What do you guys want?" Sam asked as he prepared to open his door. It was agreed upon that, as the most sober person, aside from Max, he should be the one to make the purchase.

"Jim!"

"Jack!"

"Jose!" came the three different answers.

Sam chuckled and shook his head. "Pick one."

"Sa-aam!" Jess pouted. "We each need our own bottle!"

"You get one and be thankful for it," he warned good-naturedly and climbed out of the car.

He returned in short order with a brown bag that he settled between his feet. He got himself settled and Max headed the car towards Chuck's place. They were there in a few minutes and after raucous good nights and Jess' promise to call Max the next day or so, they disappeared into the apartment building.

"So?" Max asked quietly. "Home?"

"Yes please," Sam, stroked his thumb along the back of her hand. But instead of pulling it away to manipulate the gears, Max reached across with her left hand to put the car into gear again. She drove fairly slowly, aware that plenty of drunk college students and other partiers might still be out and about. But Sam didn't mind, now that he had her all to himself again. He did release her once they arrived home, so that she could park. He climbed out of the car once it was off and waited for her on the sidewalk. They walked to the house together, Sam leaning upon it as he waited for Max to unlock and open the door. She let them in, then shut it and locked it once more and then switched off the porch light.

"Come here," Sam murmured quietly, pulling her into an embrace. She went readily, lifting her face as his mouth descended to hers. He brushed his lips slowly across hers until he felt the tip of her tongue dart out and let out a soft groan. "God, I love you so much," he whispered.

"I love you too Sam," she replied, her voice soft and bemused. "Take me to bed?"

"Gladly," he sighed, leaning down to catch her legs behind her knees.

"Sam!" she laughingly protested as he straightened with her firmly in his arms. "What are you doing?"

"Precisely what you asked," he grunted as he carried her down the hallway. She quickly reached down from her perch and turned the knob to the bedroom door, opening it for him. "Always a helping hand," Sam teased.

"I just didn't want to be dropped," she giggled.

"Hey!" Sam protested, giving her a little shake. "I may not have super strength or amazing agility, but I think I can manage."

"I may be all that," Max smiled as she stroked his cheek with her free hand, "but kiss me again and you'll see me unbalanced."

"Somehow I doubt that," Sam teased as he carried her to the bed.

"You just don't know your own strength, Sam," she told him seriously. In response, he pressed his mouth to hers and their lips parted. He lowered the arm that held her legs and she slowly slid down until her feet came to rest on the floor. She drew his hands to her waist and ran her hands up the length of his arms. Max pulled at his shoulders and Sam hunched forward resting his hands into the small indentation in her lower back.

He pulled her lower half closer to his own, content to take things slow. Max seemed of the same mind as she gently pulled his T-shirt from the waistband of his jeans and let her fingertips creep under the material, to then smooth their way over the musculature of his back. Sam inhaled deeply as she massaged the flesh along his ribs.

"That feels good," he murmured against her cheek.

"Mm hmm," she sighed, contented, deepening the pressure slightly. He swayed against her, more from the headiness of arousal, than from the alcohol he'd imbibed that night. His thumbs stole under the hem of her shirt as it rode up from her extending her arms to reach his shoulders. He sighed again, leaning his forehead against her shoulder as he relaxed under her nimble touch. He wondered suddenly how long it had been since he had returned the favor. Probably too long, if he was having to think about it.

With a lazy grin, he tugged the hem of her shirt upwards. On realizing what he wanted, she pulled her hands free of his clothes and moved to help him. But as she was dealing with that, Sam's hands dropped back to the waistband of her jeans. He unsnapped them and then pulled the zipper tab down. Max threw her shirt to the floor and reached for his. Sam patiently allowed it, letting her pull the shirt off him like a child, before he caught her face gently between his hands.

He glanced a soft kiss on her forehead before whispering, "go ahead and get undressed. I'll be right back." He kissed her nose, smiling at the slightly puzzled look and then let her loose.

Max watched his retreating back as he exited the bedroom, wondering what he was up to. She continued to disrobe, leaving her clothes in a small pile out of the way as she heard him move into the bathroom. She moved to the dresser and removed the shorts and camisole sleep set that she had bought the past summer, to throw on later. She heard him move from the bathroom on into the kitchen and she smiled as she tried to figure out if it were natural urges calling to him or he had something different in mind. Max laid the nightclothes at the foot of the bed on her side. She debated for just a moment about climbing under the covers, but, not knowing what Sam planned on doing, decided against it.

Instead she climbed up on to the bed at the top, relaxing semi-upright against the mound of pillows. She drew her legs up halfway, resting one ankle on the other and wrapped her arms loosely about herself, unconsciously plumping up her breasts a little more. She frowned when she heard their microwave beeping. Perhaps Sam had actually developed the munchies. A familiar scent tickled her nose, though she could tell that it wasn't food.

Sam reappeared a few moments later. He had divested himself of his clothes, hopefully in the bathroom, though he did still wear his boxer briefs. He carried with him one of the large bath towels and what Max now recognized as her honey and almond body lotion.

"You're not distracting me tonight," he warned her with a chuckle.

"And how am I being distracting?" she asked archly in a low voice.

"By being so irresistibly sexy." He waggled his eyebrows at her while his eyes raked over her form.

Max glanced down at herself and moved her arms with a laugh. "Sorry," she smiled. "It just comes naturally."

"That's what makes it so irresistible," Sam announced as he sat at the foot of the bed. He turned himself around so that he was sitting cross legged, facing her.

"And if that's true," she teased, "then what are you doing all the way down there?"

"Thinking that after the long hard week that you put in at the gym, a little relaxation would be appreciated," he answered as he placed the towel across his lap and then reached for her foot. Max scooted down a little so that she wouldn't have to stretch too far.

"That actually sounds really good," she groaned as Sam ran one thumb over the arch of her left foot. With his other hand, he shook up the bottle of lotion.

"This'll be warm," he warned as he poured out a generous dollop.

"I heard the microwave," Max nodded and her eyes closed as the lotion, and a delightful warmth, spread over her foot. And then his large, strong hands joined in.

"I wasn't sure that I could," Sam told her as he exerted pressure through her foot, "but it didn't blow up, so I guess we're okay."

"Better than okay," Max groaned. Sam grinned, pleased at her reaction. He let his imagination take over, remembering all the places that Max had concentrated on when she'd rub his feet. Imagining what would feel good for her. He stroked up over her ankle, urged on by her breathy moans, remembering how his calves would ache after intense workouts. Of course, her body was more conditioned than his, but it still must have felt good, judging this by the way she was melting across the bed.

He let her foot loose and began to work on the other one and her reaction was the same. She sprawled laconically across the covers, her toes flexing as he hit certain sore spots and Sam tenderly kept at it until the lotion was absorbed and Max was nearly asleep. Carefully moving her feet from his lap, he pulled the towel up and laid it full out alongside of her.

"Feel good?" he asked softly, kneeling beside her.

"Mm hmm," she fairly purred and Sam chuckled softly.

"Well, roll over here kitty and I'll do your back," he instructed gently. Her eyes popped open and a soft smile touched her lips.

"I'd call you an angel," she told him, as she rolled over onto her stomach, "but that's just not a wonderful enough thing to call you."

Pleased, he placed a kiss at her temple as she pushed her arms under the pillow her head rested on. Sam reached for the lotion again. It had cooled some more so he poured it into his hand, rubbing it between his palms, warming it with friction before he applied it to her back. His fingers moved all over, from her lower back to her shoulders. Tracing the indented curve of her spine, the lines of her ribs, he caressed it all. And when he was finished, he was near transfixed by the delighted smile on her lips. He set the bottle of lotion on the nightstand and laid himself down beside her.

"Relaxed?" he whispered.

"Boneless," she mumbled back, her eyes opening just a scant bit. "Thank you sweetheart."

"You're very welcome," he answered solemnly.

Max moved one arm and reached for his hand, resting at her waist. She drew it up to her face, turning on her side as she regarded it. She stroked the palm with her thumb and murmured lowly, "such wonderful hands."

Sam watched, lips parted, his heart thrumming as she placed a soft kiss against his palm. Her face turned up to his and another kiss whispered against his jaw. "Such lovely everything," she spoke against his skin.

"Only because you inspire me," he whispered back, slightly choked up by the enormity of tenderness welling within his chest.

"Can I inspire you to touch me Sam?" she moaned throatily.

As if he'd been waiting for those very words, Sam scooped her closer. Time seemed to stand still, everything so powerfully felt at those moments, so deep that it threatened to overwhelm. But gradually, he was able to come down from the euphoric high he'd lost himself in, to see her face smiling tenderly up at him, tears glistening in her eyes. He moved his right hand, still curled about her shoulders, to instead curve and cup her cheek as she rubbed against it.

"Sweetheart," he began softly, "I-!"

"That ocean of love?" she broke in with a tremulous voice. "It just keeps growing, doesn't it?"

Sam's thumb stroked across her cheekbone, catching a stray tear. "Forever wouldn't be anywhere near long enough," he whispered back, "to show you just how much I love you."


	24. The Walls Tumble Down

Title: What If... Racing Towards Destiny

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Rating: PG-13- R

Genre: Crossover

Type: Romance

Pairing: Max Gueverra/ Sam Winchester

Summary: What if... Max had been having a different dream?

Spoilers/ Time line: This starts when Max is thirteen and going into heat for the very first time.

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first please.

A/N: This story, while being in the same universe as _When It Changes_, does not actually occur within that storyline. This fiction is just an off-shoot of what **might **have happened.

**Chapter Twenty-four**

**The Walls Tumble Down**

Sam woke up suddenly, his eyes popping open as quiet but distinct noises made themselves known to him. Small tinkles, as of glass clattering together and soft thumps reached his ears. But before he could respond, he felt a hand slip over his mouth and a hand squeeze his shoulder. He turned his head and Max pulled her hand away from his shoulder to motion for him to remain quiet for the time being. He nodded and she removed her hand from his mouth. Sam was startled to realize that his heart was racing. He did wonder, panicked for a moment that Manticore had found her at last.

But Max seemed too relaxed for that possibility and in the faint moonlight that shone through their bedroom curtains; he could see that she'd thrown on her nightclothes. So she must have already checked the scene out, since she hadn't been dressed when she'd fallen asleep. She grinned as she tapped his chest once and made a sort of abbreviated chopping motion towards the bedroom door. She tapped her own chest and motioned to the door again, but made a right handed curve. She tilted her head and Sam nodded slowly, understanding her unspoken directions. He rolled from the bed, landing quietly, quickly pulling on the sweats and t-shirt that she'd laid out for him at some point and followed her cautiously to the bedroom doorway that stood open.

She checked the hallway and moved towards the front door. He watched her peer around the corner into the living room, and then turned her head back to him. She have him a quick nod and Sam stepped out towards the back door. He checked the kitchen and could make out a figure in the dining room. He glanced back at Max, lifted one finger and then pointed to himself, and then the kitchen. She nodded and turned her head back to wait at her position.

Sam peered into the kitchen once more and began to pad silently across the linoleum floor, his bare feet muffled as much as possible. Whoever this intruder was, he was going to rue the decision to break into _their_ home! Sam caught up with the guy just as he moved into the living room. Sam tried to grab the guy, but something must have warned him, since he turned at the last second, catching Sam's arm and yanking him forward. Sam spun with the momentum and threw a punch that was blocked. It was his turn for the defensive as the intruder threw a flurry of punches and kicks that Sam easily blocked. He was just thinking about how well he'd fallen back into the self defense, especially with not practicing, when he was caught by a blow to the cheek. He fell back a few steps, pissed off that he hadn't seen it coming, in the figurative sense, since it was pitch dark in the living room, with the curtains closed. Sam deftly maneuvered around the coffee table as the intruder kept coming. He kicked out, connecting with a thigh, making the guy grunt. More punches and kicks were exchanged and Sam wondered, as he was pushed back to the hallway, where Max had gotten to. Maybe there had been more than one intruder.

Distracted by the thought, Sam felt his legs being swept out from underneath him. He fell heavily to the floor and gasped, but not from connecting with the solid surface. Max was above him, arms and feet bracing against the walls, up near the ceiling. She grinned down at him and he lost sight of her as his vision was blocked by the intruder leaning over him. Sam rolled automatically to the side and up to his knees as Max landed deftly beside the guy. Her knee came up, catching the intruder in the chest, taking him by surprise, and knocking him back into the living room.

Sam scrambled to follow as the intruder quickly rallied, throwing a punch in Max's direction, one that she ducked easily. She jumped and even though Sam knew of her abilities, it was still amazing to watch. Her legs straight, her ankles caught the guy at his neck and her body swung straight down, causing him to pitch forward. He pretty much drove his head into the floor, before his body, continued to fly, landing spread eagle on the living room floor. And just as the intruder sat up, Max was on him again.

"You're in big trouble Dean Winchester!" she growled out.

Sam's eyes widened and he reached to the wall to turn on the light. And indeed, there was his older brother, on the floor, pulling at the arm that was in a stranglehold around his throat, the other extended to the side as Max twisted it back.

"Dean!" Sam exclaimed. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I was looking for a beer," Dean gasped and smacked at Max's arm around his throat. "Call off the watchdog Sammy!"

Sam's eyes darted up to Max's face, seeing that her eyes had narrowed dangerously.

"What'd you just call me?" she demanded silkily, her voice soft and extremely menacing. Dean, realizing his mistake, jerked his head back and looked up pleadingly at her.

"I didn't mean it like that!" he hurriedly assured her. "Please?"

"Well," she drawled, "all right." She quickly let him loose and danced back out of his reach, knowing he'd retaliate in a heartbeat, if he could. But Dean simply pushed himself to his feet, rubbing at his throat.

"Damn girl! You've been eating your Wheaties!" He coughed once and moved his hand to rub at the back of his head. "Why the hell did you attack if you knew it was me?"

Max held up one finger, "you broke into my house." A second finger popped up. "You woke me up after I was finally asleep." A third finger joined the duo. "You were beating on my boyfriend. You pissed me off. Satisfied?"

"Yeah," Dean grunted. "Forgot the cardinal rule, dude!"

"Never, ever piss off Max," Sam replied with a half grin. "But that still doesn't explain why you're here."

"I needed to talk to you guys," Dean told them.

"Uh, the phone?" Sam pointed out sarcastically.

"It's a little more important than idle chit-chat Sammy," Dean warned. Max moved over to Sam's side and he wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

"What is it?" she asked softly and Sam could feel her trembling.

"It's Dad," Dean announced. "He's missing." Sam and Max glanced at one another in surprise.

"What do you mean, missing?" Max demanded.

"He went on a solo hunt and I've only had one message from him."

"Well that's nothing new," Sam scoffed. "Dad's not exactly the communicative type."

"It's been almost three weeks Sam," Dean sighed heavily. "There's something wrong, I can feel it." Sam felt Max's hand clench around his convulsively.

"Hey," he soothed both of them. "Remember the poltergeist in Amherst? The Devil's Gate in Clifton? Dad was missing then too. But he showed up eventually and he was just fine."

"Yeah, but the message I got from him…" Dean trailed off, the implication behind his words very clear to the other two.

"Well, we haven't heard from him," Sam shrugged. "I don't know what else to tell you."

"What was he working on when he disappeared?" Max asked quietly. Dean motioned them back towards the kitchen.

"I brought the file." Upon reaching the kitchen counter, he picked up a file folder and brought it over to the table. Max and Sam took seats beside each other as Dean perched himself on a chair at the end of the table. He slid the folder towards them. "There's this stretch of two lane blacktop outside of Jericho, California. Guys have been mysteriously disappearing off it for the past twenty years."

"I see the frequency has picked up as of late," Max commented as she flipped through the different articles, noting the dates on each. Dean nodded and reached into his coat pocket to pull out a tape recorder.

"And yesterday, I got this," he announced, pressing the play button. The message was full of static, but they all knew John's voice, warning Dean,

"… be very careful… we're all in danger."

Dean shut off the tape and Sam noticed another slight shiver run through Max. It puzzled him at how upset she was.

"You know there's EVP on that," he remarked to his brother, almost absently. Dean nodded and fiddled with the recorder for a moment.

"Kinda like riding a bicycle, huh Sammy?"

"Did you run it through a gold wave?" Max asked, noting the next step that they would need to take. Dean nodded again.

"I slowed it down, took out the hiss and got this…"

The tape played again and a woman's ethereal voice spoke out, "I can never go home."

Dean shut off the machine and looked up at them. "So? What do you say?"

"Say about what?" Sam frowned, half his attention still on Max.

"Are you coming with me? I can't do this alone."

"We all know that's not true," Sam scoffed once again. "You handle stuff like this all the time."

"Fine," Dean grunted, collapsing back slightly in his chair as he stared down at the table. "Maybe I don't _want_ to do it alone," he admitted in a small voice. At that, Max suddenly stood and hurried to the bedroom. Both males puzzled stares followed after her retreating form. With a sigh, Sam turned back to his brother.

"Dean, you know that Max and I have given up hunting."

"Run away is more like it," Dean taunted.

"Hey!" Sam protested. "We're just trying to make a life for ourselves."

"Oh right," it was Dean's turn to scoff. "Living the American dream, all safe and happy and normal in your little delusion."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sam demanded, frowning.

"Come on Sam," Dean spat out. "These last four years? Do you really think that everything you left behind just stopped because you started ignoring it? You and Max need to face who you really are, not what you've pretended to be," Dean continued relentlessly. "Because if you don't, if you're not prepared-!"

"Oh my God," Sam gasped suddenly, as his brother's words resonated through his head and instantly Max's behavior made sense. He pushed back his chair and stood abruptly. "Wait here," he instructed his brother sternly, ignoring the scowl that Dean gave him at being cut off.

He found Max in the bedroom, at her dresser, pulling clothes from it. She'd already changed into some comfortable jeans and a long sleeved shirt. He crossed to her side and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She paused in what she was doing and glanced up at him.

"So Dean's pretty upset, huh?" he smiled tenderly, rubbing her arm soothingly. She nodded and stared down at the clothes that she held.

"It's rolling off him in waves," she told him in a small voice, before turning to him, leaning her head against his chest. Sam wrapped both arms around her waist.

"Hey, it's gonna be okay," he assured her softly. "This is Dad we're talking about."

"I know," Max sighed and then pulled back to shake her head. "I'm sorry Sam. I have to go." Sam moistened his lips and put one finger to her mouth, silencing her.

"It's okay," he assured her. "I understand." And he did. She's already told him about her instincts when it came to family. It didn't matter what the actually danger might be. As long as someone was afraid, scared, worried, well, she would react. He dropped a kiss on her forehead and stepped over to his dresser and began pulling clothes from it.

"You're coming?" she sounded surprised. Sam threw a grin at her over his shoulder.

"Of course I am," he snorted softly. "Someone has to be the calming influence. Otherwise, you and Dean will fly off the handle."

Max gave a small, strained chuckle and set the clothes on the dresser. She moved over to the closet and they heard a small tap on the door. Max reached over to open it, revealing Dean.

"So what's the consensus?" he asked, striving for a light tone, but both Sam and Max could hear the strained under current.

"We're coming," Sam informed him as he carried a change of clothes to the bed. Max extracted a duffel bag from the closet and tossed it to her boyfriend. She turned back to pull a box down from the shelf and rummaged through it.

"We have to be back before Monday morning though," she warned.

"What's Monday morning?" Dean asked, leaning against the door frame, watching them. Sam and Max glanced at each other and began to laugh. "What?" Dean demanded indignantly.

"Inside joke," Sam grinned as he moved to pick up the shirt that he had worn earlier. He tossed it into the laundry basket and then moved to pull one less ragged than his sleep shirt from his dresser drawer.

"Monday morning I have work and Sam has an interview," Max explained as she carried the small box to the bed and added it to her pile.

"What? Like a job interview?" Dean scoffed. "Blow it off. Call in sick."

"It's a law school interview Dean," Sam clarified, scowling at his brother's cavalier attitude. "It's my whole future on a plate."

"Law school?" Dean echoed in surprise.

"And I can't call in sick," Max told him as she began to pack things into the duffel bag. "I just started at the gym. With Margie on leave, they really need me."

"A gym?" Dean's eyebrows shot up. "When did this happen?"

"Just recently," Max grinned.

"What happened to the store?" Dean wondered aloud.

And as Max began to fill him in, Sam watched them for a moment. Max seemed much more relaxed now, as did his brother. Sam realized then that it was the assurance that he was going to have family at his back that had calmed Dean down. And that in turn had allowed Max to settle down as well. He smiled at that. Dealing with Dean would be so much easier with Max reacting to his moods. And since Sam could read Max's moods easily now, Dean's would be a breeze.

"You about ready, sweetie?" Max's voice reached him and Sam gave a small start.

"Yeah, yeah," he nodded. "I just need a few more things."

"Okay," she nodded and gave him a swift kiss. She turned to Dean. "Come on, let's go get some munchies for the road."

"You read my mind," Dean grunted happily.

After they had left, Sam quickly changed and hurried to the bathroom, wanting to retrieve Max's ring from his jeans before she accidentally found it. He returned to the bedroom, grabbed the bag from the bed and found them in the kitchen. Dean was stuffing bags of potato chips in a leftover grocery bag, while Max piled cookies into a plastic container.

"Well, I'm all set," he announced. Dean gave his rustling bag one last shake, as Max snapped the lid to the container in place.

"Then let's go!" Dean grinned.

"Hey!" Dean called to his brother as he exited the gas station convenience store. He moved around the end of the car as Sam, sitting with the door open to the front passenger seat, glanced back at him. Dean held up a pop, a bag of chips and something that looked like a pre-wrapped Danish. "Want some breakfast?" Dean asked.

Sam snorted and shook his head in the negative. "Dude! You ate all that stuff that Max gave you?"

"Not _all_ of it," Dean defended as he laid his purchases on the trunk. He removed the nozzle from the gas tank and returned it to the pump. "I think there's still some cookies left."

"Crumbs, more like it," Sam scoffed. "And how did you pay for that stuff anyway? You and Dad still running credit card scams?"

"Hey!" Dean frowned. "You know hunting isn't a high profile gig. We can't all be cushy lawyers, you know." He climbed into the driver's seat and laid his purchases beside him.

"And what name did you put on the application?" Sam demanded.

"Uh," Dean's eyes rolled upwards as he thought. "Burt Afromian and his son, Hector. Scored two cards out of it."

"It's fraud Dean," Sam reminded him.

"Hey," Dean grinned, "we only applied. Not our fault they sent us the cards."

"Uh huh," Sam grunted. "Where's Max at?"

"Probably still in the can," his brother shrugged. Sam rolled his eyes and Dean grinned. Sam continued to rifle through a box containing his brother's music collection. "Cause you know, when you gotta go, you gotta go." Sam shook his head, still trying to find something decent to listen to.

"Dude," he finally complained. "You have got to update your music collection!"

"Why?"

"Well, for one thing, they're cassette tapes," Sam pointed out and Dean shrugged, as if asking for the point. "It's like the best of mullet rock," Sam continued derogatorily.

"So?" Dean demanded, slightly offended.

"I mean, come on," Sam lifted one eyebrow as he picked up tape after tape. "Black Sabbath, Metallica, Motorhead?" He picked up another and Dean yanked it from his hand and efficiently opened and extracted the tape.

He pushed it into the cassette player as he announced, "house rules. Driver picks the music," he tossed the cover back into the box. "Shotgun shuts his cake hole!" Sam rolled his eyes and set the box of tapes on the floor of the car.

"There's Max," Dean noted calmly, glimpsing her exiting the store, from the driver's side rear view mirror. He started up the car and immediately AC/DC was blaring through the car. Sam spun the volume dial down as Max carefully climbed into the back seat. "What's with the get-up?" Dean snorted, turning in his seat to regard her.

"What?" Max asked.

"The clothes," Dean clarified. "You look…"

"Like a professional?" she asked archly. "Here Sam," she extended the arm that carried a travel mug. "Coffee."

"Ah," he sighed, accepting it gratefully. "Sugar?"

"Already done," she smiled and turned her attention back to Dean. "I figured that since we're doing the investigating bit, it might help if at least one of us looked legit." Her hand reached into one of the bags at her side that she'd just brought out of the store with her. "Here sweetie," she offered another package to Sam, who took it with a smile. Dean glanced at the package of mini-powdered donuts and frowned.

"Oh, so it's okay when Max buys that junk?" he snorted. Sam didn't bother answering as he stuffed a donut in his mouth, chased it with a gulp of coffee and let out a contented sigh. "So that's how you soothe the savage beast, huh?" Dean asked teasingly as he maneuvered the large car back onto the highway. Jericho was still several miles away.

"No," Max shook her head. "Coffee's just a stop gap measure. The beast requires sex. Of course, if it was just us, we'd-!"

She was cut off by the abrupt increase of volume and Dean's sing-song "I can't hear you!" denial. Sam turned enough in his seat to send a wink his girlfriends way, which she returned with a smug grin.

"All right," Sam announced a very short time later as he hung up his phone. "There's been no one matching Dad's description admitted to the hospital."

"Same goes for the morgue," Max added a moment later as she also hung up her phone.

"Well that's good news at least," Dean sighed gratefully.

"Yup," Max nodded in an exaggerated fashion. "Two down, only a couple other thousand hospital's to check."

Dean ignored the jibe, having caught sight of something more interesting than his sister's familiar taunting. He slowed the Impala and pulled off the road. "What's this?" he asked softly, in general.

There were officials of all sorts swarming over a bridge, in the middle of which, a lone car sat, seemingly abandoned. Dean was already reaching for a wooden box beneath the front seat. Sam noticed Max digging through the box she'd brought along with her possessions. Sam let out a small, perturbed gasp as he recognized their many fake identification badges.

"What'cha got Dean?" Max asked quickly.

"Marshal," he answered shortly. "You?"

"BAU," she responded as she clipped something to the lapel of her suit jacket. Sam knew that the shorthand referred to a section of the FBI known as the behavioral analysis unit. Specially trained agents who dealt with serial criminalists. He was brought back to the moment as Max pulled a clipboard and pen from the bag as well and climbed out of the car. She took a moment to smooth the material of her beige pant suit over her hip and followed after Sam, who'd managed to catch up to Dean. She affected a confidant, dominant stride, broken only once as they ducked under the official yellow police tape. She let Dean identify himself, the ensuing conversation playing around her as she calmly approached the driver's side, the door of which stood open. She glanced at the officer crouched there and nodded.

"Excuse me," she said softly. "I need to view the spray pattern please." The officer's glance dropped quickly to her chest, not to her cleavage, but to her id and then he nodded.

"Yes ma'am," he agreed and backed out of her way. Max took in the amount of blood left in the car, looking at how it was dispersed. For similar to regular human crimes, it could be a clue.

"Don't you people usually take pictures?" the officer behind her asked.

"Photographic memory," she grunted. "I'll get things started and the rest of the unit will be here shortly."

"Yes ma'am," he answered again, seemingly satisfied with her straightforward answer. She pretended to make a notation on her clipboard and noticed Sam's face tighten. She had to bite her lip when Sam trod on Dean's foot. Sam glanced her way and cocked an eyebrow.

"Ready?" he asked her. She glanced down at her clipboard and then back at the brother's and nodded slowly. She gave a long-suffering sigh that the officers caught and she gave them a tight '_see what I have to put up with'_ look and garnered a few smirks that were quickly hidden. The feeling was amplified when Dean smacked Sam across the back of his head as they all walked back to the car.

"Ow!" Sam hissed. "What was that for?"

"Why'd you have to step on my foot?"

"Why'd you have to talk to the police like that?" Sam rallied immediately. Dean darted in front of his brother, effectively stopping both Sam and Max.

"Come on Sammy," Dean snorted. "They 'don't know anything'? We're on our own on this."

"Boys," Max warned softly, jerking her chin just slightly. Dean whirled around as they were approached by three men, one a sheriff's department officer, the other two FBI agents, recognizable by their jackets. And their stick up their ass demeanors.

"Agent Mulder," Dean nodded at the passing suited men. "Agent Scully."

"Can I help you folks?" the sheriff's department officer asked, his hands on his hips. Max stepped forward, her clipboard covering her fake id.

"No, thank you officer," she replied calmly and steadily. "We were just leaving." She glanced back at the guys. "Shall we?" They both nodded and followed after her. "Dean," she hissed as she pulled open the door to the backseat of the Impala, "you need to dial it down a few notches. You're being an idiot."

"What?" Dean demanded.

"An idiot," Max repeated. "From the Greek, _idiote_, as in one afflicted with the mental capabilities of a three year old child!"

"Hey," Dean growled. "I resent that!"

"You're right." Max sighed in apparent contrition. "You aren't an idiot." But her voice picked up as Dean started the car. "because you are in fact a moron!"

"Hey!"

"From the Greek, _moros_," she went on relentlessly while Sam snickered. "One afflicted with the mental capabilities equivilant to a seven year old, capable of doing menial tasks under supervision, like… driving? Now! Before that Sheriff becomes even more suspicious of us?"

Dean caught the hint and pulled away from the scene of the crime. "You gonna let your girlfriend talk to me like that?" Dean nettled as he directed the vehicle into the town proper.

"Yes," Sam smirked. "Especially as I happen to agree with her."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

"Sorry to break up the love fest," Max chuckled, "but what's our next move?"

"We'll need some info on this most recent victim," Dean decided.

"So we'll need to find Amy?" Max asked, referring to the victim's girlfriend.

"Yeah," Dean confirmed, his eyes dark. "You heard that?"

"Mm hmm," Max murmured as she stowed away the clipboard, pen and her fake identification.

"How does she keep track of everything like that?" Dean asked of Sam, only one of them completely mystified.

"I can parallel process like there's no tomorrow," Max grinned as Sam snickered.

"Over there?" Sam pointed discreetly down the street at a young woman putting up missing posters.

"Think that's her?" Dean asked and the other two threw him exasperated looks. "Okay, so what's our cover?" he asked. "Concerned uncles?"

"Probably too young," Sam mused.

Max rolled her eyes. "Oh for-!" she bit off. "Let me handle it." And she strode away from them.

"Was she always like this when you guys were hunting?" Sam asked his brother sotto voce, even though he knew that Max would hear.

"Nah!" Dean scoffed as they waited a short distance away. "She's mellowed."

"Hey," Max greeted the girl who had just finished putting up another sign advertising a missing man. "Are you Amy? Troy's girlfriend?"

The blond turned her head to face Max, seeming slightly apprehensive. "Yeah, who're you?" she demanded.

Max smiled disarmingly. "Max… Glasser. Um, my boyfriend Sam and his brother Dean," she gestured at the pair many yards behind them, waiting. "They're Troy's cousins from Modesto."

"Oh," Amy chewed at the corner of her mouth. "I didn't know Troy had cousins over there."

"Maybe it was second cousins," Max suggested lightly. "Sam was pretty upset when he told me what happened." Amy's face cleared a little. "Anyway," Max continued, "we came down to see if there was any way we could help find him."

"Well," Amy hesitated, but before she could say more, another girl, dark haired, about Amy's age, approached them, her concern evident.

"Amy? You okay? There're some guys watching-!"

"It's okay," Amy assured her friend. "They're Troy's cousins."

"Oh."

"Is there some place we can go?" Max artfully intruded. "You look like you could use a small break," she added solicitously.

"There's a diner down the street," Amy's friend suggested, obviously in agreement with Max's assessment. "She's been up all night."

"I can understand," Max sighed, glancing back at the guys. She nodded and they hurried over. Max quickly made introductions and then asked Sam as she slipped her hand into his, "was it second cousin's on your Mom's side, babe?" effectively letting the guys know what their established cover was. "I wasn't too clear on that."

Sam nodded and the group followed the Jericho natives leads. Once a waitress had shown them to a booth, they made themselves comfortable. Amy and her friend on one side and Max followed Sam into the other side. Dean made do by pulling up a chair from a nearby table and plunking himself into it. He did end up settling closer to Max than he did the other girls, so that he could face them to talk. They ordered drinks quickly and declined menus from the waitress.

After the woman had returned with their beverages and after Amy had described the measures taken so far to find Troy, Sam leaned forward to ask, "so when's the last time you talked to Troy?"

"Last night," Amy answered promptly. "We were on the phone. He was on his way home." The trio facing her all nodded encouragingly, knowing they were mimicking one another and not caring. "But then he had to go. He said he'd call me right back. But he never did," she finished quietly. There was an awkward moment of silence as that finality sank in.

Sam cleared his throat and smiled gently. "I like your necklace," he nodded toward the pentagram that Amy had adorned her neck with. She glanced down and fingered the small medallion.

"Troy gave it to me," she informed them. "You know, freak the parents out. All that devil worship stuff."

"Actually," Sam spoke as a muscle in his right cheek twitched slightly, "it means just the opposite, safety and protection."

The younger girls glanced at one another, sharing a look of mild disgust at an adult's presumptuousness over what they clearly considered their cultural domain, even as Dean muttered, "thank you unsolved mysteries!"

Max grinned and patted Sam's hand where it rested on the table. "Sam's college courses included an Arcane Symbolism in Religion class. But things sure have changed in the last two thousand years, haven't they?"

The girl's suspicions were allayed once again, but Dean was getting tired of pussyfooting around and leaned forward once more.

"Okay look," he began seriously, "the way Troy disappeared, somethings not right here. So if you girls know anything…"

Amy and her friend exchanged a long, uncomfortable look.

"What?" Dean prompted, accurately interpreting this. Amy's friend leaned forward.

"Well, with all these guys disappearing? People talk."

"What do they say?" Dean and Sam asked in unison, leaning forward eagerly.

"Well," the girl began again, "years ago, this woman gets murdered, out on Centennial. And they say that she haunts the road, looking for her killer."

The ghost hunting trio exchanged quick looks. That was precisely what they needed to hear. But Max reached out and patted Amy's hand.

"Interesting urban legend, but, well…"

"Yeah," Amy murmured. "I mean, it's more likely he, I don't know… picked up a hitchhiker or… or…"

Max squeezed the girl's hand. She didn't offer reassurances, since she was not at all comfortable with offering a stranger false hopes. And with this girl's father on the police force, she probably had a pretty grim, realistic idea about Troy's fate, but just hadn't accepted it yet. As if reading these thoughts in Max's face, Amy suddenly pulled her hand free and picked up the stack of posters waiting to be distributed.

"I should get back out there," she murmured hurriedly, turning to her friend. The brunette nodded, gave the others a tight smile and scooted out of the booth. Amy followed, stopped for a moment and then whispered back, "if you hear from him…?"

"We'll let you know immediately," Sam assured her. Amy slid a poster free and set it on the table, then turned and hurried away. Her friend murmured a brief thanks and moved after her distraught friend.

"Move please Dean," Max instructed once the girls were out of earshot. Dean pushed his chair out of the way and Max slid out of the booth with a murmured, "be right back." Sam watched her leave as Dean returned the chair to the table he'd gotten it from and then slid into the opposite side of the booth.

"All right," he growled, catching Sam's attention again. "So now we've got somewhere to start."

"But where do we want to go first?" Sam muttered. "Things are going to be shutting down soon." Dean nodded, glancing at his watch.

"Typical small town, everything shuts down but for the entertainment."

"Well, it's not like City Hall's open today anyway," Sam grunted out.

"Maybe the newspaper?" Dean suggested. "We could look through the archives," Dean shrugged.

"Without a specific date, it will take a while," Sam sighed. They mulled over their options and were still at it when Max returned, her hands full. Sam reached for the newspaper she carried as she set down a full glass of milk on the table. Sam winced when he saw it.

"Did you take your pills today?" he demanded softly. Max nodded as she sat.

"This morning, don't worry," she assured him. She jabbed one finger towards the paper. "The Jericho Herald has an online archive of their stories, dating back over forty years."

"Good news," Dean grinned.

"And," Max drawled, continuing, "the public library has Internet access and they don't close until six. So that gives you almost two hours search time."

"Okay," Sam nodded once. "Library it is then. We can probably tap City Hall public domain records from there too."

"I was also thinking," Max lifted the paper up and pulled out the menu she'd also brought back with her to the table. "I am getting pretty hungry. Why don't we order something to go. I'll wait for it while you guys check this out and then meet you at the car or the library." Just as she finished, Dean's stomach made a large growl and the trio laughed quietly.

"What a team," Dean grunted out in satisfaction. The males quickly decided what they wanted to eat and Max gave them the directions to the library that she'd garnered from the waitress. The group split, focused on their new current tasks.

Many hours later, after they had reconvened, eaten dinner and went over what Sam and Dean had discovered, they'd headed back to the area where Tony Squire's deserted car was, Sylvania Bridge. They'd made sure that the coast was clear before heading out onto the actual bridge itself. At least, Sam and Dean did. Max was doing a little backtracking, what she could of Troy's tracks leading up to and onto the bridge. She puzzled out where he might have lost control of the vehicle or where he'd panicked at. But there was too much traffic in the dirt areas and no indications on the pavement that she could discern in the dark. As she moved to join up with the guys, she realized that she could hear them, clearly if not distinctly. Which shouldn't have really been possible, unless they'd raised their voices. Which was very possible, knowing those two.

But Max swore under her breath when she saw Dean shove Sam up against a rail post, quickening her step. She wondered briefly what had been said to set Dean off. Probably some slur against John. As she debated over whether or not to intervene, she saw them break apart again. Her steps slowed to a halt and she caught a flash of white to her right and just slightly ahead of the guys. Apparently Dean had spotted the apparition as well.

"Sam!" Dean called his brother's attention to the female figure standing on the ridge railing. As they watched the woman slowly glanced back at them and then away, leaning forward, falling away from safety. The guys ran to the other side of the bridge. Max stayed still as her hackles, figuratively speaking, rose.

"Where'd she go?" Dean demanded as they peered over the side.

"I don't know," Sam returned, his eyes scanning the dark. It was then that they heard the Impala's engine start and they were partially blinded as the headlights flared on.

"What the-!" Dean bit out.

"Where does Max think she's going?" Sam asked, slightly bemused.

Dean dug his fingers into his front jean pocket and yanked out the keys to the car. Suddenly, the car, empty of passengers of the human kind, jumped forwards and swerved to the left. The silhouette of a body was briefly illuminated before flying through the air as the car suddenly aimed itself at them.

"Max!" Sam yelled, his heart pounding in his throat, his breath coming in painful gasps.

"No!" Dean's voice echoed only a fraction of Sam's fear and it was still sickening to hear. But even in their fear for what had befallen Max, they realized the danger to themselves and began to run.

She had to be all right, was all Sam could comprehend in thought at that moment as he and Dean ran headlong down the bridge with the car gaining on them. She had to. She was his super woman. She could survive anything!

Sam and Dean ran, but the realization was swift in coming that the possessed car had a straight shot at them and no amount of running would save them. As one, they veered off the path and over the bridge edge railing. Sam fell, perhaps six feet before catching the rounded edge of a steel girder with one arm and leg. He hung on desperately, allowing the momentum to carry the rest of his body around as his free hand cushioned the impact against the side of the girder. Once stopped, he hoisted himself up until he could sit across the second guard. He quickly glanced behind him, to where his brother should have been. And wasn't.

"Dean," he whispered, his breath coming in pants, his heart still pounding in his ears. For a moment, all he could hear over that was the rushing of the below and then,

"Sam?" His mind seemed to explode with relief as he heard her sweet voice. He glanced up just as Max peered over the railing down at him. "Sam? Are you hurt?" she demanded, the fear evident in her voice. He shook his head quickly in the negative. "Where's Dean?"

"He jumped," he answered, his eyes returning to the water below. How deep was that river?

"There!" Max exclaimed after the barest of moments. Sam followed where she was pointing, and saw his brother bobbing towards the river's edge.

"Dean!" he yelled, hoping his brother could hear him over the rush of the water. He yelled again as Dean pulled himself onto the rocks and gravel and tiredly rolled over.

"What?" his aggrieved voice floated up to them.

"You okay?" Sam yelled down and Dean held up his hand, his thumb and forefinger in a circle to indicate that he was, indeed, okay. Sam laughed with the relief that he felt that everyone had made it. They were okay.

"Come on sweetie," Max directed, leaning over the rail still, extending a hand to Sam. "Let's get you up."

"You're okay?" Sam asked quickly as he began to climb up. "The car…?"

"I jumped over it," Max explained, "when I saw I couldn't avoid it."

"You leapt over the car?" Sam demanded, amazement tingeing his voice as he grasped her hand for the last few feet up. She grinned at him.

"At the rate the car was going, I only had to be in the air for a few seconds," she explained further. Once Sam got over the railing, they wrapped their arms around one another, relieved that things hadn't turned out worse. And then suddenly, Max laughed. "We better go rescue Dean," she told her boyfriend.

Sam nodded, but couldn't understand what she found so humorous. It showed in his face, obviously, as she said, "didn't you hear Dean?" He shook his head in the negative as they separated, but continued holding hands. They began the trek to the end of the bridge where they could climb down the embankment. "And I quote," Max giggled, "'here I am freezing my ass off while they're up there makin' kissy face'."

Sam snorted and laughed. "Man, he is so immature some times."

"True," Max conceded. "But if he wasn't, how would we recognize him?"

"I see your point," Sam sighed mockingly and then chuckled under his breath, "kissy face!"

"Just remind him that he's lucky we didn't commandeer the car right here and now to celebrate our being alive," Max offered good naturedly.

Sam squeezed her hand. "He gives us a hard time, and I just might."

The climb down took little time and effort, since there was a grass covered hill that led down to the gravel and rock lining the river's edge. Dean was kneeling and still coughing by that point and Max nimbly hurried forward to check him over. Dean waved off her concern and Sam saw by the moonlight the pinched measure of distress on her face.

"Hey man," he intervened, "let her check you out."

"I'm fine Sam," Dean protested, holding up a hand.

"You might think so," Sam replied, "but just to be sure. I mean a fall from that height, you might've cracked a rib, or something else."

"I fell into water Sam," Dean snorted and coughed again.

"Dive or belly flop?" Sam asked shrewdly. Dean's mutinous look was his answer and he laid back down gingerly and let Max do a cursory check, daintily avoiding the sludge as much as possible. He winced a little when she slid a hand under his back and quickly explained that it only felt bruised, not broken.

Max nodded. "Any trouble breathing now?"

Dean shook his head in the negative and she proclaimed his fit to get up, ignoring the _I told you so_ grimace that he threw at her.

"But let us know if your back gets worse," she warned.

"Yes ma'am," he snarked as they began walking back up the embankment. Soon enough, they were back on the bridge and Dean hurried forward to check on his beloved car. Max stopped to look at the tire marks left at the point of acceleration. She knelt down for a closer look while Sam waited, indulging whatever notion was in her mind at that point.

When she rose, she reached for Sam's hand and told him quietly, "the treads getting pretty worn out. Think he'd like tires for Christmas?"

Sam grinned. "I was actually thinking of getting him a compact disc player for the car and some cds."

"He'd probably return them and buy more tapes," Max chuckled as they walked to the car.

"Yeah, you're probably right," Sam sighed. "Tires it is then. Should we do it now or can he go a little longer?"

"The sooner the better," Max decided and Sam nodded.

Dean had the hood up on the Impala and they rounded the car just as he began pushing it back down. "The Impala okay?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Dean grunted. "Whatever she did to it, it seems to be okay."

Both men leaned back against the hood of the car and Max stepped in between Sam's slightly splayed legs. He wrapped his arms around her as she snuggled against him, warding off the chilly night air.

"That Constance," Dean growled and then yelled out into the night. "What a bitch!" Sam and Max exchanged an amused glance with one another. All three sighed and Sam's head turned towards his older brother.

"Dude, you smell like a toilet."

Dean grimaced tiredly in Sam's direction.

"Actually," 'Max drawled, "I'm thinking that this might have been the dumping ground for L'Amour." Dean leaned forward and frowned at her.

"What's love got to do with it?' he demanded, knowing enough rudimentary French to figure that out.

"Not a thing, Tina," Sam snickered.

"Oh ha ha ha," Dean deadpanned. Max smiled, relaxing under the familiar flow of their banter.

"That's the name of that perfume," she explained and Dean gave a startled jerk slightly away from her.

"You're not gonna ralph on me, are you?"

"I'm trying desperately to suppress the urge," she grimaced.

"Seriously?" Dean inched away from the pair.

"Yeah, my stomach's churning," Max smacked her lips together in disgust.

"Uh," Dean tilted his head away in alarm as Sam frowned in consternation. Was she serious?

"I'm going to…" Max's shoulders hunched delicately and her fingertips covered her mouth. Dean scrambled away and then, she giggled. "Better?" she asked Sam impishly. Sam roared with laughter as he realized her ploy and Dean growled.

"When the hell are you gonna grow outta this damn bratty stage?" he demanded of her.

"Maybe when it's no longer any fun to bait you," she sassed right back. Dean shook his head and flicked a glob of mud in their direction.

"Okay!" Sam intervened with a loud voice before there was a real contention of mudslinging. "Why don't we figure out our next move?"

"Over there," Sam pointed to Dean's left. His brother nodded and pulled the Impala into the curb. A cell phone rang and all three scrambled to check their respective phones.

"It's me," Max announced and then answered the phone. "Hey Jess. What's up?"

"Hey Max," Jess greeted in a small voice. "I didn't wake you up, did I?"

"No, I was already awake," Max assured her. "What's going on?"

Dean caught Max's attention in the rear view mirror, and then whispered, "I'm checkin' in." Max nodded at him, although her attention was mostly on her friend, who did not sound good at all.

"I tried the house yesterday, a couple of times," Jess told Max hesitantly.

"Oh well, Dean came by and we headed out for a little road trip with him down the coast," Max covered.

"Oh, okay," the other woman sounded relieved that she wasn't actually really interrupting anything.

"Hang on a sec Jessica," Max told her and covered the phone with her free hand. "Go ahead Sam," she instructed her boyfriend. "I'll be in, in a few minutes"

"Okay," he nodded and leaned towards her for a quick kiss. He climbed out of the front passenger seat and hurried to join his brother in the motel office. Max pulled her hand away from the phone and brought the receiver up to her mouth again.

"Sorry about that," she apologized quickly. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

"Caden was here," Jess told her friend without preamble. "When I got home from Chuck's yesterday."

"Oh sweetie," Max's commiserated immediately. "Was it bad?"

"Pretty bad, yeah," Jess sighed. "He used the key I gave him to get in and pack up the stuff that he'd left here."

"Mm hm," Max offered, non-committed, knowing that Jess would get through her story at her own pace.

"I thought I could get through it okay," Jess went on. "But then, he grabbed the jersey that I bought at the game, you know?"

"The anniversary game?" Max asked, referring to the football game that she'd gotten them tickets for.

"Yeah," Jess sniffled. "I mean, I paid you back for the tickets, I paid for the gas and the food and I bought that jersey."

"I know you did," Max soothed. She turned in her seat so that she could see which room the guys were assigned.

"And I thought," Jess' voice was getting angrier, "why on earth should he have the jersey that I bought, that he's never worn!"

"And what did he say?" Max murmured as she caught sight of Sam and Dean exiting the office at a fast clip.

"He thought it was _a gift_ and he tried to tell me that he wanted something to remind him of the good times that we'd had together," she explained derisively.

"What on earth," Max muttered, more as a reaction to Sam and Dean skulking down the motel walkway than to what Jess had said. They'd paused at a door and while Dean kept lookout, Sam set about breaking in.

"Yeah," Jess scoffed. "Apparently, they're _her_ favorite team and Caden thought she'd like to have it."

"He told you that?" Max demanded, outraged on her friend's behalf and in general for screwed over woman, the world over. "What an asshole!"

"Yeah," Jess agreed. "Things just deteriorated from there. You would not believe what he had to say about all of you guys."

"I can just imagine," Max murmured as she watched Sam viciously yank Dean into the room he'd just broken into. The door slammed shut behind them and Max noted the number on the door. The most likely explanation was that they'd just discovered where John was or had been staying.

"He told me that Alli is a self-righteous busybody who has no right to weigh in on our relationships!"

"Well, to be fair," Max smiled softly, "she is a bit of a busybody. But only because she loves us."

"Exactly," Jess agreed. "And apparently Tom is a chronic bum that mooches off of everyone instead of actually doing something with his life."

"Oh, because he was down-sized out of a job?" Max noted.

"Uh huh," Jess continued. "And Chuck and Dale are pathetic drunks who are just jealous of him because he can actually land a girlfriend."

"Oh, now that was rude," Max snorted. "And what did he have to say about Sam and I?"

"Well," Jess hesitated and Max chuckled.

"Don't worry sweetie," she assured her friend. "I'm a big girl, I can take it."

"Well," Jess began again. "He actually had a lot to say about you guys."

"Like what?"

"It pretty much boiled down to his saying that Sam is a hypocritical jerk who is coasting off the hardworking taxpayers and you while he dicks around at school."

"Uh huh," Max muttered dryly. "Sounds like he's jealous."

"That wasn't the worst of it," Jess warned and something in her voice made Max pause. "He actually really likes you." Max blinked several times. That… really sort of surprised her. "Which is why he told me that if we all really cared about you, we'd stage an intervention."

"What?" Max laughed. "He thinks I'm a druggie or something?"

"No," Jess spoke softly, hesitantly. "He thinks… well, he thinks that Sam…"

"That Sam is a drug addict?" Max asked, puzzlement coloring her tone.

"No!" Jess denied, sighing heavily. "And I mean, I know that what he said wasn't, isn't true."

"What did he say?" Max demanded impatiently.

"Well," Jess repeated and then cleared her throat. "There's no easy way to say this, so I'll just say it. He said that… that Sam was probably… abusing you… physically." Max was shocked speechless. "He said that, um, if we'd all just quit acting like Sam was some sort of saint, we'd see the signs too."

"Signs?" Max asked faintly. "What signs?"

"Uh, well, there were a lot of things that he said. Like that one time we saw you and you'd hurt your back."

"I just twisted it wrong at work!" Max protested, understanding immediately what Jess was referring to.

"I know," Jess soothed as best as she was able. "But Caden figured you lied about that because 'you're too dainty to lift boxes like that'."

"But you've seen me do it!" Max protested.

"I know," Jess replied calmly. "But Caden said I was imagining it or something, or it wasn't as heavy a box as I said."

"What else?" Max snarled.

"He figured that you, um, well your refusal to go out with us sometimes was because you didn't want us to see any bruising or anything," Jess continued on somberly, "and the way you were always checking in with Sam. Or you wouldn't make any plans with anyone until you'd cleared it with Sam and that comment you made? About how you couldn't wear a certain outfit because Sam wouldn't let you leave the house."

"That was a joke!" Max cried out, frustrated and sickened by the slurs against the man she loved. "I meant that-!"

"I know what you meant sweetie," Jess reassured her. "It was just little things that he was throwing into the argument. The big thing was…"

"Was what?" Max asked, her voice going deadly cold.

"Well, he said that the biggest clue was your age."

"My age?" Max echoed.

"Uh huh. Caden basically said that only sick, perverted bastards go after fifteen year old girls when they could be with a girl their own age."

"Really?" Max voice was even icier. "Did anyone ever tell Caden that Sam was seventeen when we started dating? And that nothing happened between us again until I was of legal age as well?"

"Yeah, I did mention that, several times," Jess sighed. "And he didn't care. He said that Sam was probably sent to Stanford by his family to avoid statutory rape charges."

"Oh my God," Max moaned raggedly. "How dare he!" She didn't even realize that she was crying until the moisture dripped from her jaw onto the clenched fist in her lap. She quickly swiped away the tears. Crying wouldn't do any good. "You know," she laughed humorlessly, "suddenly I wish I hadn't asked you."

"I know," Jess agreed hastily. "And I wouldn't have told you, but Caden said that if we were going to keep deluding ourselves about Sam, that maybe he'd do something about it."

"Like what?" Max asked with alarm.

"I don't know," Jess admitted. "But that's why I thought you should know, to warn you guys. And I'm sorry. More sorry than I can say for… inflicting this on you guys."

"Oh no Jess," Max denied. "It's not your fault. I mean, this must have come out of left field for you too."

"It was," her friend hastened to tell her. "I seriously had no idea he thought or felt any of this."

"And here we all thought, at least until recently, that he was a pretty decent guy," Max sniffled.

"I wish I'd never met him," Jess sighed again. "This is just… I'm so sorry Max. I know you guys have your own stuff that you're dealing with and you don't need this."

"Hey! Not your fault," Max protested. "This is one hundred percent on Caden. But…"

"But what?" Jess asked hesitantly.

"I hate to ask this," Max began quietly, "but could there possibly be any way that Caden's um… projecting?"

"What do you mean?" Jess whispered, suddenly fearful. "Like is Caden abusive?"

"Not so much that," Max denied quickly. "More like the possibility that Caden knew or knows someone who actually was abused and now he's reading too much into the situation?"

"Oh, I don't know," Jess sounded vaguely relieved at the possibility that Max introduced. "Maybe. I mean, we certainly didn't share ever little last detail of our life histories with each other."

"Well, let's just hope that's what it is," Max sighed, feeling drained. "God. You know, Sam and I knew that there'd be people who thought these kinds of things about our relationship, way back then. That's part of why we handled things the way we did. I just never thought it would come back and bite us in the ass by this point in our lives."

"And nothing may come of it," Jess supplied. "I just wanted you to be prepared, just in case he shows up."

"Oh don't worry," Max muttered darkly. "I can definitely take care of Caden and teach him a thing or two he won't forget about slandering my boyfriend!"

"I know you can," Jess chuckled lowly.

"I better go," Max murmured. "Sam and Dean are waiting for me." Jess murmured her agreement and a few more apologies before the pair finally hung up.

Dean stared at the various articles that John had plastered on the wall of his motel room. All victims of the Woman In White, so really, not victims from a certain viewpoint. "You sly dogs," he chuckled under his breath. He turned back to Sam, who was busy scanning other notations that John had put up. "So, if we're dealing with a woman in white, Dad would find the corpse and destroy it."

"She might have another weakness," Sam mused aloud.

"No, he'd want to be sure," Dean surmised, leaving off looking at information he'd already memorized to join where Sam was standing. "He'd dig her up. Does it say where she's buried?" he asked, jerking his chin towards the article on Constance Welch.

"No," Sam sighed. "Not that I can tell. If I were Dad though, I'd go ask the husband. If he's still alive, that is."

"Hm," Dean grunted as his eyes trailed down a familiar picture, tacked underneath the Welch article. "So, speaking of women in white," he drawled out, his eyes seemingly stuck on that vaguely menacing, yet familiar picture.

"What about them?" Sam grunted.

"Oh, I was just wondering when the hell you were gonna make an honest woman out of my sister?" Dean demanded with a lazy smirk. It caught Sam slightly off guard and he smiled at his brother's obvious attempt at meddling.

"Monday," he answered with a huge grin.

"What?" Dean yelped, even more surprised than Sam had been by his question. Sam half turned to face his brother, smirking at the stunned and slightly hurt puppy look radiating from Dean's face.

"I mean, I'm planning to _ask_ her on Monday night," Sam clarified and began to move over to the window. He checked to see that Max was still in the car, talking to Jess on her phone.

"No wonder you were so adamant about bein' back Monday," Dean grinned. "Got a big evening planned."

"Actually, Max planned it," Sam laughed. "She told Jess that she was going to surprise me with an evening out to celebrate my law school interview. And Jess told me, so I just figured…" he trailed off as Dean laughed appreciatively.

"Sammy the sly dog!" Sam rolled his eyes.

"_Sammy_," he stressed heavily, "was a chubby twelve year old Dean."

"Yeah yeah," Dean waved the rebuke away. "Whatever. Did you get her a ring?"

"Yeah, I did," Sam's face brightened once more as his hand delved into his inner coat pocket.

"Dude!" Dean protested. "You brought it with you?"

"Well, I didn't want to leave it around for Max to find, or for it to be stolen," Sam shrugged as he pulled the jeweler's box out and held it out to his brother. Dean snagged it and flipped open the hinged top. He let out a low whistle at the gold and diamond ring nestled there.

"Nice."

"You know," Sam offered quietly, "I'm gonna need a best man." Dean's head came up sharply and for a moment he seemed speechless.

And then he grinned, widely and said, his voice thick, "yeah, I'm pretty good at holding the rings."

Sam gave him a puzzled stare and Dean reached for the silver chain around his neck, pulling it off over his head. Sam's face went from puzzled to surprised as Dean held it out to him. Slowly he reached out and caught the ring that was dangling from the chain. "Is this…?"

"Mom's ring?" Dean supplied for him. "Yeah, it is. I had it fixed up a few years ago. Take it."

Sam dropped it instantly, his startled gaze flying again to his brother's face. "Dean, I can't," he protested softly. "I mean, you're the eldest, you should use it."

"Oh, like that's gonna happen," Dean scoffed. "Besides, it's not for you," he went on. "Or me, for that matter. Its for Max."

"Yeah," Sam nodded slowly.

"You know… Mom would have loved her," Dean told him confidently. Hearing him say that, it only solidified the rightness of everything, in Sam's mind. Even though both boys knew that it was only conjecture on their parts, assigning the opinion to their long dead mother that they themselves held.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "Just like the rest of us." His hand reached out for the ring once more. Once it was securely in Sam's hand, Dean let go of the chain. It felt strange to Sam, in a way, to be holding a little bit of his mother in his hand. She seemed very real in that moment.

"Uh, Dean," Sam began and then found he had to clear his throat. "That stuff I said about Mom last night? I didn't-!"

"Hey!" Dean interrupted, his hand still outstretched, spread wide as if to ward something off. "We've already had our chick flick moment. No more!" Sam regarded him for a moment, the corners of his lips twitching.

"Jerk!" he enunciated clearly.

"Bitch," Dean responded just as easily, his eyes twinkling at the familiar refrain. At that moment, they heard a click come from the door. Dean hastily threw the ring box back to Sam. Fumbling slightly, Sam opened it and hastily stowed Mary's ring inside before shutting it and cramming the box back inside his jacket once more. Dean had moved over to the door and caught it as Max popped it open, effectively hiding Sam from view, keeping the secret as long as possible.

"So," he announced a little louder than he normally would have, "if you'll look up the husband's address, I'm gonna get cleaned up."

"Good thing I grabbed this then," Max noted, holding up one of Dean's smaller duffel bags. He took it from her with a grateful smile that faded slightly when he noted the faint stain of tear tracks down her cheeks.

"You okay?" he asked softly, which did more to catch Sam's attention than anything else he could have said.

"I'm fine," Max assured him tersely, but neither male believed her. "I'm just extremely pissed off with Jess' ex boyfriend.

"Okay," Dean pursed his lips, quickly deciding that it was a matter that Sam could better deal with. He hoisted the bag over his shoulder as Max pushed the door shut. "I'll be out in a bit," he informed them as he headed for the bathroom.

He shut them out just as Sam asked, "is Jess okay?"

"Other than being hurt, shocked and upset… yeah," Max told him dryly. "She saw Caden yesterday." Sam's face darkened.

"He didn't pull anything, did he?"

Max shook her head in the negative. "But Jess is worried that he might. We can… discuss the particulars later, once I've calmed down."

Sam eyed her wonderingly. "So, are you at egg breaking, dish breaking or worse?"

Max pursed her lips in contemplation. "I'm ready to bust heads, kick ass, maybe run him over a few times with my bike, just for good measure, you know?"

Sam's eyes widened fractionally. He held out his hand to her and she came to him without hesitation. Sam wrapped his arms around her. She snuggled against him as he rested his chin on the crown of her head. "Whatever happened, or does happen, we'll deal with it, right?"

He felt her nod and the gradual relaxation of her body. Finally she pulled back and tilted her head back. "You know, I really love you Sam," she whispered with a soft smile on her face.

"I love you too really," Sam grinned and pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose. Max chuckled, ending on a sigh and then glanced about the room.

"Dad was redecorating, I see."

"Yeah he was," Sam agreed.

"Did you guys figure out what we're up against?"

"Woman in white," he supplied, gesturing to the wall with the pertinent information. Max glanced over, her eyes narrowing.

"It fits, I suppose. So, salt and burn?"

"Once we've figured out where she's buried," Sam nodded. "Hopefully we'll get finished with all this by this evening and be home by late tonight."

"That'd be nice," Max sighed. "I'd forgotten how, restrained we were with Dean around." Sam grinned down at her.

"Feeling neglected?" he asked softly.

"Not really," Max half frowned. "I'd just prefer to be able to kiss my boyfriend without comments from the peanut gallery."

"Yes, well, the nut is currently occupied with other things," Sam teased.

"True, but he'll figure the odds and come out swinging," Max giggled.

"And you're letting that deter you?" Sam asked, feigning shock. "Oh Max, I am so disappointed."

"Hm, I think I'm sensing a challenge here," Max drawled. Sam quirked an eyebrow at her and suddenly found himself falling backwards through the air. He landed on the bed, his elbows bracing his body as he semi-reclined. Max followed quickly, climbing over him to straddle his waist. "And you know I can't resist a challenge," she continued, as Sam watched her carefully.

"Well, no one is stopping you," he urged easily, not caring that his brother was in the tiny, most likely un-sound-proofed room next to them.

"No," she agreed," but it would seem that I'm up against some undefined time con- con… achoo!" She sneezed suddenly, the unexpected force of it shaking the bed. Her surprised eyes met Sam's amused ones as he laid back the rest of the way, folding his arms under his head.

"Do that again," he chuckled. "Believe me, time wouldn't matter if you kept that up." Max giggled as he shifted under her and she felt the undeniable proof that he also needed a 'break'.

"Actually, it would matter," Max sighed, though she did wiggle about a little bit more. "Water just shut off," she explained.

"So?" Sam demanded. "He's still got to dry off and get dressed." Max lifted an eyebrow, setting it somehow in a perfectly symmetrical arch and let out a rich laugh.

"I suppose a few minutes more wouldn't hurt," she decided, laying herself out on top of him. Sam moved his arms to wrap them loosely around her waist, his hands spreading across her back. As she lowered her face to his, her hair fell around them, creating a slight shield against the room around them. She brushed her lips lightly across his and Sam responded enthusiastically. Max felt her lips grow into a smile as they continued to kiss chastely. Of course Sam wasn't going to push her into anything she wasn't comfortable with, not that she was against this. It was just that she didn't think it was the time or place and her train of thought was lost as Sam shifted, rolling them to one side.

He pulled away an inch or so and rubbed his nose against hers. "That's all I wanted," he told her teasingly.

"I know," Max sighed. "I just really want to get this done and taken care of so we can get home and take care of other things."

Sam contemplated her for a long moment. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Max chewed at the corner of her mouth. "I'm as okay as I'm going to be, for now," she told him vaguely.

It was Sam's turn to be arching his eyebrows. "Caden really screwed up, didn't he? For you to be this upset?"

Max nodded. "And I'm thinking maybe you better distract me again before I reach boiling point once more."

Sam, wondering what on earth the guy could have done that wouldn't involve a felony against Jess or another of their friends, to earn Max's enmity, decided that it was in everyone's best interest to comply with her request. Hand resting on her hip, he lowered his mouth to her ear. "Well, would you like to know what I'm planning to do to you when we get home?"

But Max wasn't given the chance to find out if her imagination was that accurate, as the bathroom door opened then and Dean emerged. He was fully dressed and carrying his coat of the previous evening. Both Max and Sam lifted their heads to regard him as he began rummaging through the pockets, removing his essentials and laying them on top of the television set that had been pushed into an out of the way corner.

"I feel so much better," he announced blandly, to the room at large.

"That was quick," Sam smirked. Dean shrugged and glanced over his shoulder at them.

"Yeah, sorry, but the hot water ran out fast and I was getting hungry," he apologized with a very uncharacteristic blandness. "I saw that there was a little diner down the road. I'm gonna walk down and grab a bite to eat. You guys want me to bring you back something?" He waited, but both Max and Sam declined. "You sure?" he pressed as he grabbed his wallet and cell phone, putting them in the pocket of the leather coat he'd just donned. He headed for the main door. "Afromian's buying," he told Sam with a smirk and his younger brother just rolled his eyes.

As soon as he was out the door, Max commented, puzzled, "uh, what was up with that?"

"With what?"

"No teasing, no sly or snide remarks, no dirty gestures or weird faces," Max enumerated.

"Maybe Dean is finally figuring out the futility of his behavior," Sam smiled. He heard his phone ring and quickly extracted it from his jacket, glancing at the call screen. "And maybe I spoke too soon," he chuckled as he answered. "What Dean?"

"Dude! Five oh. Take off!" Both heard the warning loud and clear. "Cops and they don't look happy."

"What about you?" Sam demanded as they both slipped over to the window to peer out cautiously.

"Yeah, they already spotted me. You guys go, take care of Constance." And then the phone shut off. They watched for a moment as several officers approached Dean. The sheriff gestured to two other deputies who broke away to approach the motel door that Dean had just emerged from. Sam and Max gave each other an unneeded glance. They knew the routine, escape and evade. Sam shoved his phone in his pocket while Max snagged the keys to the Impala from atop the television set. They hurried to the bathroom, Sam hoping desperately that they hadn't posted officers in the alleyway. Max popped the window from its frame and set it gently on the floor. She quickly hoisted herself up and through as they heard banging start on the main motel door. Sam followed, less gainly and agile as she, while Max watched the alley exit ways.

Max listened for a moment, Sam close behind her. She led him to the far end of the alley, moving carefully to watch the scene unfold. "We need to get the car," she whispered to him. Sam nodded.

"The room's bad enough," he whispered back. "They'd have a field day with the car."

"Well I was thinking more along the lines that Dean would kill us if we let the car get impounded," Max grinned. There were shouts and startled exclamations from inside the room. "There's not much time." She glanced around and then pointed in the opposite direction. "Go, two blocks down, two blocks left," she instructed. "I'll pick you up."

"Max!" Sam protested.

"Trust me, babe," she smirked and gave him a quick kiss and then blurred away. Sam was committed to obeying the plan since Max had already set the chain of events in motion.

Just as Sam reached the meeting point, she pulled up in the Impala, next to him, the car's engine idly rumbling. Sam dove into the passenger's seat, yanking the door shut behind himself as Max pulled into a tight u-turn. Soon they were accelerating away from the hot zone.

"What's the plan?" Sam choked out as he checked behind them for any hint of pursuit. This was just one of the myriad of things that he hated about hunting.

"Bait and switch," Max replied. "They're going to be searching for you on foot and me in the car. For starters at least."

"You want to split up?" Sam frowned. Max spared him a glance.

"Honey, we need to take care of this as quickly as possible," she pointed out as she reached across the span to squeeze his hand. "I'm going to run interference around here for a few hours so that you can find the husband and Constance's grave. And I think I'm a little better equipped to be breaking Dean out of jail, don't you?"

Sam couldn't argue about that logically, regardless of how much his emotions might have wanted to. However, "I don't have to like this plan, do I?"

Max chuckled and squeezed his hand again. "You can dislike anything you want sweetie."

"Okay," Sam nodded. "Just so long as we're clear on that."

"Crystal," she dead-panned.

Sam turned fractionally in his seat. "So how'd you get the car?" Max shrugged.

"One of the officers was checking it over. I ran up behind him, knocked him out, jumped in, pulled a u-turn so the other cops could see me and then I was gone. I headed straight as long as I dared. Hopefully they'll think we separated at the bathroom window, but I'm not getting my hopes up."

"Me neither," Sam muttered.

Eventually Max pulled off the road to the side and climbed out of the car. Sam followed suit and met her at the front of the car. He reached for her and hugged her close to him.

"I know I don't need to say it, but be careful, please," he whispered into her hair. She smiled up at him, her hands resting on his chest.

"I will be," she promised. "I am just as eager to get this done and get home, as you are. So no way in hell am I going to get my ass caught!" Sam grinned down at her, reassured almost by the cockiness in her voice.

"How long do you think you'll be at this game of hide and seek?" he asked.

"Get it right Sam, escape and evade," she corrected with a laugh. "And probably several hours. Since I'm going the careful route, I'll have to do some recon before I bust in and bust Dean out."

"Okay."

"So I'll call you once we're clear, standard signal," she informed him as Sam nodded.

"I love you" he murmured. "Give me a kiss." She complied and then stepped back.

"And I love you too and we'll see you later."

Dean stared at the table before him, wallowing in his boredom. He'd just spent the better part of this day being interrogated by a fat, stick in the mud, narrow minded, small town, overinflated by his own hubris, sheriff. In it's own way, it had been very enjoyable, seeing how far he could out sass them without receiving a little country justice. But he was also starting to wonder what the hell Max and Sam were up to. The door to the questioning room opened and Dean drew a deep breath, steeling himself for another go around The sheriff came up behind him, on his left and Dean glanced up as the sheriff leaned over.

"You need to use the can boy?" he asked of Dean bluntly.

"No sir," Dean shook his head.

"Good," big and burly grunted and the next thing Dean knew, he'd been handcuffed to the table. Which, of course, was bolted to the floor. Dean's eyes followed the bucolic officer as he left the room and saw personnel scrambling every which way.

"Shots fired out on Whitford Road!" came through the door of his room loud and clear.

Dean pursed his lips as his gaze roamed absently around the room. Perhaps he should have said he needed to use the facilities. A gleam caught his attention and his eyes narrowed as he focused his eyes to behold a moderately sized paper clip, grouping some sheets together in a file folder. Checking quickly out the security window of the door, he saw that no one was watching him or paying attention in his direction. He pulled the paper clip loose and stared at it for a moment, bemused.

"Idiots," he snorted under his breath as he straightened the clip out and began to expertly pick the lock of the handcuff shackled about his wrist. He just about had it when,

"God, you are such a slow poke," tinkled in his ear.

Dean bit off a startled exclamation as he spun around in his chair, to see Max grinning down at him. "Jesus!" he hissed. "Where the hell'd you come from?"

Max grinned and looked up. Dean followed her glance and saw that she'd come through the ventilation shaft between the floors.

"Uh huh," Dean muttered. "And what took you so long getting here?" he demanded as he went back to releasing himself from the handcuff.

"I was running interference and getting the layout of the place," Max replied easily. 'You about done?"

"Yeah," Dean grunted, "got it... now!"Max grinned and gestured to the door.

"Hang on," Dean leaned forward and grabbed up several important items that the cops had confiscated.

"Is that Dad's journal?" Max's voice was subdued, suddenly underlined with worry.

"Yeah, he left me a message," Dean explained.

"Okay," Max sighed and moved to the door. "Oh damn."

"What?"

"They left her behind," Max gestured to the lone officer still manning a desk.

"I thought we were..." Dean gestured upwards.

"Your shoulders are too wide," Max explained as she pulled out her cell phone. "What did they plan on charging you with?"

"Suspicion of kidnapping," Dean shrugged. "They can't pin a murder wrap on me, because no bodies."

"Just plenty of blood and suspicions," Max surmised. She dialed rapidly and then pulled back, out of sight of the small, square window in the door, while gesturing for Dean to resume his seat. He obeyed, watching her with curiosity.

"Name's Ted Nugent," he whispered, an inkling of what she was planning coming immediately. Max just nodded. It was a moment before Dean heard a telephone begin to ring in the outer office and he smirked.

"Yes hello," Max began to speak, her voice automatically taking on the soft, culturally snobbish fake tones that spoke of expectations, money fueled escapades, and Daddy funded bail outs. "Whitney Mann, public defender's office," Max announced. "I was dispatched to meet a client, suspected kidnapping." She paused for a moment and Dean heard the corresponding voice to the phone call in the outer room, through the words weren't clear.

"Yes, that's the one," Max confirmed in her false story. "Unfortunately, there's no one at the front desk to sign me in." She was forced to pause again and then there was a hint of steel in her voice.

"Yes, I can understand, but I've already been waiting for fifteen minutes, and my client a lot longer than that." Dean grinned widely at the note of exasperation in his sister's voice. "I assume that my client is still afforded due processing, isn't he? After all, he is innocent until proven guilty, correct? I'm quite sure that the DA would be very upset to learn that he couldn't try a case because of a technical offense committed by the officers of... yes, I'll be waiting."

Max hung up the phone and gave Dean the thumbs up sign. He continued to grin at her, but then had to hastily wipe it away as a female officer's visage appeared at the security window. She disappeared from their view quickly and they both listened in silence to the receding footsteps fading away. A heavy seeming door shut somewhere away from them.

"Let's go," Max whispered.

Dean followed after her hurriedly, glad that she'd taken the time to figure out the layout of the building. They made it to an unoccupied janitor's room, larger than the usual closet, out the window and down the fire escape ladder in a trice. Once they were a few blocks away, Dean paused.

"Let me borrow your phone," he asked of Max. "They've got mine."

"Calling Sam?" she asked and Dean nodded as she tossed the phone to him. "Standard protocol," she informed him as he deftly caught the phone she tossed at him and he nodded again. He hadn't actually expected anything else. He dialed his brother's number, let it ring once, hung up, waited a moment and then called again. Sam picked up immediately and grinned.

"Hello to you too lover boy." Max ducked her head to hide her smirk. "No, she's right here. She's had a busy afternoon, phoning in fake police calls, impersonating a lawyer. Very slick." He paused to listen to what Sam was saying.

"Yeah, well Dad's not here anymore Sam," his words were directed to his brother, but he included Max, his eyes serious. "No, I've got his journal," he responded to Sam and Max could just make out Sam's voice.

"I know. He left me a message. Same old Marine crap as always." He paused again.

"Yeah, listen... Sam? Sam!"


	25. Forever Not Enough

Title: What If... Racing Towards Destiny

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.

Rating: PG-13- R

Genre: Crossover

Type: Romance

Pairing: Max/ Gueverra/ Sam Winchester

Summary: What if... Max had been having a different dream?

Spoilers/ Time line: This starts when Max is thirteen and going into heat for the very first time.

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first please.

A/N: This story, while being in the same universe as _When It Changes_, does not actually occur within that storyline. This fiction is just an off-shoot of what **might **have happened.

**Chapter Twenty-five**

**Forever Not Enough**

"Sam?" Dean repeated, the phone pressed almost painfully against his ear. "He's in trouble," he announced. But when he glanced at where Max had been, just moments ago, he found nothing. "Where the hell-?" he muttered, snapping shut her phone and sticking it in his coat pocket. He actually wasn't all that surprised when a car screeched to a halt right next to him.

"Get in!" Max ordered, leaning over to unlock the passenger side door. Dean scurried around the front of the car and climbed in. He'd just barely pulled the door shut before she had pealed away.

"So we're jackin' cars?" he asked wryly. Max threw him an annoyed look.

"Where's Sam at?"

"He was heading out to Breckenridge Road," Dean informed her. "I-!"

"I know where it is," she told him, deftly and quickly maneuvering the car through the streets. "There's a service road that'll get us there in a few minutes."

Dean nodded and then made a disgusted noise. "Why the hell would Constance be going after Sam?" he demanded suddenly and then leveled a dark look in her direction. "Unless there's something I don't know..."

"Don't worry Dean," Max scoffed. "Sam has never been unfaithful to me." That seemed to relieve him, if only marginally.

"But then why-?"

"It's because Sam has someone he could potentially be unfaithful to," Max pointed out.

"Yeah, Sammy'd rather kill himself than hurt you," Dean drawled.

"Well if the situation were different, I'd certainly... understand at least," Max sighed. "But this time, Sam's marked, either way."

"Damned if you do, damned if you don't," Dean muttered.

"Exactly."

After a moment's pause, Dean pursued the subject. "So if it was you in that position? Would you?" he asked with interest. Max made a sharp turn that brought them onto a gravel lined road.

"I'd eliminate the threat before it ever got that far," Max snorted derisively. Dean's eyebrow went up.

"Ah," he whistled. "Well what if it were different? What if you had to cheat on Sam to save his life? Would you?"

"In a heartbeat," she told him in a hoarse voice.

"Really?"

"If there were no other alternative," Max nodded.

"Even knowing that it'd tear Sam apart and ruin everything between you?" Dean pursued relentlessly. Max turned her head slightly, her eyes brimming with tears for just the barest second.

"But he'd be alive and that's what matters."

He certainly couldn't refute that and Dean wasn't sure why he approved hearing this sort of thing, except... Well, it just seemed to reinforce how perfectly Max belonged in their family. Sam had found himself, in Dean's estimation, the perfect woman.

"What the hell?" Max breathed out and Dean's eyes snapped forward, scanning the landscape before him.

"What?" he demanded and then caught sight of the Impala straight ahead. There was a strange flickering coming from the interior of the car. "Damn it!" Dean hissed. "We need-!" But before he could finish his sentence, the car had accelerated and Max had leaned forward to pull a gun from where it was tucked into the back of her waistband. She shoved it into Dean's hand as she pulled into the decrepit yard.

Recognizing it as his, Dean didn't bother wasting time asking why she had been packing. This was Sam they were protecting, after all. He leapt from the car, bringing the weapon up as he skidded to a halt just yards from his own car, where his brother was being tormented by the ghost of Constance Welch. The first shot shattered the driver's side window. The successive shots would have been straight through the spirit's head, had it been solid. Dean could feel Max at his side, could hear the escaping pants of their breath, could see the blood staining Sammy's shirt, but still he waited. And the moment the twisted visage of the vengeful spirit reappeared, he fired off the rest of the clip. The ghost disappeared once more and this time Sam was able to sit up. Both Max and Dean called his name, but he ignored them in favor of starting up the car again.

"I'm taking you home," they heard him mutter and to the pairs utter surprise, he accelerated straight through the front of the tumbling down house. The Impala, more solid than the successive generations of cars, crashed through the building and furniture alike, with Sam stopping once it was fully inside the house.

Max and Dean were hot on the trail, jumping and stumbling over the debris.

"Sam?" Max and Dean both called as they caught up to the car. Dean slid to a stop, leaning over to peer into the car.

"You okay?" he demanded of his brother.

"I think," Sam answered, weaving with his effort to stay upright. Dean pulled the door lock up and yanked the door open.

"Can you move?" he asked.

"Yeah, give me a hand," Sam grunted. Dean reached into the car and pulled his brother out. Sam stumbled to his feet and stepped towards Max, who immediately began checking him over, concern written all over her face. Sam stilled her hands as he caught sight of Constance Welch. Dean slammed the door shut but stilled as well at his brother's hand on his arm.

The trio watched as Constance moved gingerly, as much as a spirit could, through the house. She stooped to pick up a dusty picture frame, staring at it a moment before she tossed it aside. The ghost moved forward to look the group over derisively. Max edged forward, her body tense and Constance tilted her head to the side. Suddenly she flickered away and the next thing they knew, the credenza, that had been stationary against the wall of the staircase, flew towards them.

"No!" Max shouted and with one swift powerful kick, she met and knocked the credenza back away from them. It shot back towards the wall, the corner braces splintering from the impact. Sam reached for his girlfriend but she shook off his hand, prepared to protect him at any cost. Constance's head tilted again as she beheld Max. Her mouth formed words, but no sounds emerged from her lips. But a distant call was heard, faint and indistinct. Lights flickered in the house and there came a trickle of water down the stairwell. It coalesced into a puddle, not at the foot of the stairs, but off to the side, on the floor between Constance and the Winchesters. Constance's gaze traveled upwards, following the source of the water until she appeared to be looking at the top of the steps. Slowly, flickering in and out of sight, she made her way to the foot of the stairs, her gaze never wavering.

The trio unconsciously leaned forward, wondering what had the spirit's undivided attention.

"Mommy," childlike, ethereal voices, layered one over another, sounded from above them. "You've come home to us."

Constance began to edge away, her face twisting. There was another flicker and she spun around, confronted suddenly by two young children, a boy and a girl. They rushed forward to embrace the terrified spirit woman. The moment the children's ghostly flesh connected with her own, Constance began to scream. Everything flickered around the Winchester's and they could just discern through the moonlight and flickering glow of the wall sconces, the children dragging Constance down. After several seconds of visual torment, Constance and her children were gone. All that was left behind was the slightest of puddles. The three of them stepped over to investigate it. Dean glanced up at the ceiling and then back down to the floor.

"So this is where she drowned her kids," he surmised.

"That's why she could never go home," Sam nodded. "She was too scared to face 'em."

"Well you found her weak spot. Nice work," Dean congratulated his brother and slapped him playfully on the chest. Sam laughed with the pain as Max protested.

"Dean!"

"Oh just kiss it and make it better," Dean snorted as he headed over to check out the car. "You know you want to."

Max frowned and tugged at Sam's shirt so she could see if the wounds Constance had inflicted were still bleeding.

"I'm okay," Sam assured her quietly and then raised his voice to address his brother. "I wish I could say the same to you. What were you thinking shooting Casper in the face, you freak!"

"Hey!" Dean half turned and pointed at Sam. "Saved your ass, didn't I?" He turned back to contemplate his car. "I'll tell you something," he leaned over to check for scratches, "if you screwed up my car?" He turned again, "I'll kill you!"

"See now," Max chuckled, "that's how she would have had to get to you Dean."

"Huh?"

"Make you cheat on the car," she grinned, "since there's no woman in your life."

"Like that'd ever happen," Dean snorted. "Come on, help me get her out of here."

"Yeah," Max agreed as she moved to check that the path was clear for Dean to back up. "We better hightail it out of here. Baldy'll be waking up soon."

"Baldy?" Sam asked and Max looked slightly chagrined.

"The guy whose car I stole," she explained. Sam just shook his head, unable to say anything over the sudden roar of the Impala's engine. Dean cautiously backed the vehicle out, wincing over every bump and scrape. Sam joined Max, taking her hand as she moved over to the vehicle she had 'borrowed'. She pulled the keys from the ignition and stuck them in the unused ash tray and pushed it shut. She locked the doors and slammed them shut. Before she could move to rejoin Dean, Sam pulled her into an embrace. For some reason, she was still tense, shivering slightly, though not, it seemed, from the cool evening air.

"You okay, babe?" he asked softly. Max leaned into him, her arms holding his sides loosely.

"I'll be fine," she assured him. "It's just been so long since we've been in that kind of danger..."

"But you guys saved me," Sam cuddled her closer, understanding exactly how she felt. If the situation had been reversed...

"Okay," Max groaned. "Can we go home now and just be a normal couple again?"

"Anything you want, sweetheart," Sam nodded and tilted her chin up with one finger. He brushed his lips slowly over her and she shuddered delicately beneath him. "Home is sounding good right now," he murmured. "Let's go" he decided just as Dean gave a quick honk of the horn.

"Let's get a move on, you lovebirds!"

"Yeah, yeah, hold your horses," Sam snorted as he led Max back to the car. He opened the door to the back for her and with a lingering touch of her fingers to his cheek, she climbed in. He rounded the car and climbed into the passenger's side. As he did so, he noticed Max rearranging bags so that she could semi-recline. "Tired?" he asked solicitously.

"Mmm, more hungry than anything," she announced.

"I'm not surprised," Sam grinned, "after that surprising burst of adrenaline."

"Oh, so that's how you explain that?" Dean scoffed.

"What?" Max demanded.

"Sorry," he shrugged, "but you kicked that hunk of junk furniture like you were swatting a fly."

"And?"

"If I tried that, I'd break my leg," Dean snorted. Max and Sam exchanged amused glances. "Yeah, well she _is_ an aerobics instructor who works out constantly," Sam interrupted, "and is very... very...agile and-!"

"All right, thank you for that wonderful image," Dean scoffed. "So," he continued hurriedly, "is drive through okay with you guys?"

"That'd be fine," Sam decided.

"Yeah," Max concurred, "just preferably away from here."

"Ah, that really hit the spot," Dean sighed as he crumpled the wrapper of his last burger and tossed it back into the bag the meal had come in.

"Mm," Sam murmured in agreement, already having finished his meal and now just finishing the last of his coffee. He glanced down at the cardboard tray wedged in the center of the front seat that still had Dean and Max's drinks. He turned in his seat to ask Max if she wanted her drink, only to find that she was sound asleep. "Should've known," he sighed with a smile as he righted himself.

"Known what?" Dean asked as he reached for his drink.

"Max is crashed out," Sam told him, jerking his head just slightly towards the back seat. Dean's eyes flickered up to the rear view mirror, visually confirming what Sam had just told him.

"Not so surprising, is it?"

"Not really," Sam grinned. "She always sleeps like that after she's expended a lot of energy and-!"

"I keep telling you, I don't want to hear this!" Dean warned playfully.

"Jeez Dean," Sam snorted. "You've got such a one track mind!"

"Hey, you're the one that won't shut up about it," Dean countered.

"I wasn't referring to that," Sam protested. Dean quirked a meaningful eyebrow at him, coupled with a knowing smirk. "I wasn't!" Sam denied and then deflated a little. "Okay, maybe just a bit."

Dean grunted.

"But can you blame me?" He glanced back and drank in the glimpses afforded him by the muted evening lights.

"Well that's my _sister_ you're talking about," Dean stressed and Sam laughed.

"We've been together for four, almost five years now," he pointed out. "When are you going to accept that?"

"Never," Dean replied cheekily. "She'll always be my little sister. Especially after Monday night."

"Yeah," Sam grinned in agreement.

"So, think she'll say yes?" Dean asked quietly.

"I know she will." Sam stated authoritatively and then admitted "Jess asked her point blank on Halloween."

Dean eyed his brother admiringly. "Joe College doin' a little recon, huh?"

"Actually no," Sam shrugged. "Jess doesn't know about this. I just happened to overhear the conversation."

"Well still," Dean pursed his lips thoughtfully "it's good to know. When do you think you'll do it? The actual wedding I mean."

"Um, hard to say," Sam muttered, thinking it through. He checked back to make sure that Max was still asleep, which she was. "We'll probably wait until Dad resurfaces."

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "He won't want to miss that."

"You think so?" Sam asked, a little derogatory, yet hopeful too. Dean just threw him an amused look and Sam hurried to say, "speaking of Dad, you said you had his journal?"

"Oh yeah," Dean nodded and dug around under the debris from the drive through. He pulled out the leather bound book and held it up. "Coordinates are towards the back."

Sam took the book and began flipping through the familiar pages, though many were newer additions, chronicling John's adventure. He stopped when he saw Max's handwriting and smiled as he skimmed through her comments. But finally he came to the message that John had left.

"Got a map?" he asked quietly.

"Check under your seat," Dean instructed. Sam leaned forward and pulled a small plastic tote forward. Popping the top off, he found a collection of maps. A continental US map sat at the top, folded back to reveal the southeastern states. He rifled through them for moment ,finding all sorts, from more specific state maps, to topographical maps and even a few weather maps that were probably no good anymore. He took the continental map out and snapped the lid shut, mildly surprised at his brother's organization. But then, he knew he shouldn't have been. Hunting was one of the few things that his brother took seriously. He spread the map over his lap and began calculating the coordinates John had left for Dean.

It took a few minutes to find but soon enough he was able to announce, "got it."

"Where?" Dean asked patiently.

"Place called Black Water Ridge," Sam squinted to read the small print. "Colorado. Looks to be about..." he did another quick calculation, "six hundred miles."

"You know," Dean pointed out smoothly, hopefully, "we gas up and shag ass, we can make it there by morning."

Sam frowned. "Dean, you know we can't. I've got-!"

"The interview, yeah," Dean concluded for him. "Sorry," he lied, "forgot about that for a minute."

Sam shook his head helplessly as he clicked off the flashlight he'd been using to view the map. "It's not just that," he sighed quietly.

"Max has to work," Dean surmised. "I know."

"Not that," Sam shook his head. "It's just... I never realized until recently how... damaging... the hunting was for Max. It's not good for her."

"Huh?" Dean puzzled. "You mean, dealing with you being threatened? Nobody likes that Sammy."

"Not just me," Sam denied quickly. "Any of us. Me, you... Dad."

"Well like I said," Dean scoffed, "nobody likes it."

"No," Sam agreed calmly, "but it's worse for her sometimes."

"How so?"

"Well," Sam sighed, wondering how to tell Dean without giving away Max's secret that she still wasn't ready to share with Dean. "You know about the escaped convict, right?" He went with the story that she'd concocted for John, that was semi based on the truth.

"The one that nearly shot Ben?" Dean recalled. Sam nodded.

"The thing is, that day, that moment has stayed with her all this time."

"Well that's not so surprising," Dean half scoffed. He seemed to want to say more, but didn't.

"I don't mean..." Sam hesitated, sighed and tried again. "The thing is Dean, any time one of us is in danger, that stuff doesn't just surface for her. It damn well overwhelms her. Especially you."

"Me?" Dean grunted. "Why me?"

"Because you remind her so much of Ben," Sam divulged.

"Huh. Really?" Dean grunted again. "Well, I suppose that clears that up."

"What?"

Dean shrugged. "The way she, well, over reacted some times."

"Whenever you were in danger?" Sam asked wryly and Dean frowned.

"Hey, it was nothing I couldn't handle."

Sam grinned at Dean's automatic protest. "I'm sure," he murmured and then his voice strengthened. "I just really hate what this does to her Dean. She wants and deserves a normal life and I will do anything possible to make sure that she has it."

"If that's true," Dean asked quietly, reflectively, "then why didn't she protest? Like you did?"

"You mean before?" Sam tried to clarify. "Or this weekend?" Dean shrugged and Sam figured that his brother probably meant both. "It's not like she had a decent taste of normal until the past few years," Sam pointed out reasonably. "And this weekend, you were so worried about Dad, so she was worried about Dad."

"But you weren't?" Dean pounced.

"I'm concerned," Sam hastened to explain, "but I'm about ninety-five percent certain that Dad'll pop up eventually, wondering what all the fuss was about."

Dean grinned at that. "Yeah, he would, wouldn't he?" There was a brief moment of silence and Sam fidgeted in his seat for a moment.

"Look Dean," Sam began quietly. "Just because Max and I have turned our backs on hunting, don't ever think we'll turn our back on family."

"Course you wouldn't," Dean snorted in amusement. "You're Winchesters."

"Yeah," Sam nodded with a matching grin. "That we are."

Several hours later, as they pulled into the outskirts of Palo Alto, Sam roused himself enough to ask Dean to make a quick pit stop.

"Can't you wait til you get home?" Dean asked teasingly.

"No that kind," Sam groaned. "I need to stop by my bank. Hit the ATM."

"This late at night?" Dean frowned. "Can't it wait?"

Sam shook his head, grinning. "Trust me, it'll be easier than doing it later." And Dean, misunderstanding Sam's intentions for the money he needed, shook his head quickly and followed his brothers directions. Sam accomplished the task quickly and climbed back in the car to find Dean watching Max sleep.

"She is really out, isn't she?" he mused, shaking his head. Sam shrugged.

"Even she has to catch up once in a while."

"Well, let's just hope she doesn't wake up with a crick in her neck," Dean smiled. He straightened in his seat and reached to put the car in drive. "Anywhere else you need to stop?"

"No, that was it," Sam informed his sibling. His hand clasped the wad of money that he and Max had agreed upon, in his jacket pocket.

"Well, then, I'll take you on home," Dean decided before Sam could say anything further on the matter he wanted to discuss. He decided to leave it for the moment.

"Dean," he spoke hesitantly and his brother glanced at him quickly but waited. "You know," Sam continued, "you're welcome to stay. We've got the spare room. I mean, you really should rest a bit before you go anywhere else."

Dean grinned but shook his head. "Thanks Sammy," he shrugged his shoulders. "But I wouldn't want to be underfoot what with your big day and all. Besides, the thing up in Colorado might be time sensitive."

"True," Sam agreed and fell quiet as the familiar streets caught his attention. When at last Dean turned onto their street, Sam half turned in his seat and reached back to gently touch Max's knee. "Max, wake up," he spoke softly, knowing it would be enough. "We're home," he added as her eyelids fluttered for a moment. But soon, they opened fully and with practiced movements, she was sitting up just as Dean pulled in, double parking beside their car. Max yawned and gave a little stretch, working the kinks out of her neck. She glanced around quickly, assessing their position and then frowned when she realized Dean's temporary parking position.

"You're not staying?" she asked roughly, her voice husky. Dean gave her an apologetic smile.

"Not tonight," he explained. "I need to head up to Colorado, pronto."

"Okay," she nodded. "Come here." She clambered forward to give him a hug over the back of his seat and a peck on his cheek. Dean sat patiently for it, giving her arm a squeeze. "Stay safe and let us know what you find out."

"Will do," he promised. She moved back and with another yawn, reached for her bag.

"Go on and head in," Sam ordered her gently. "I'll bring in the bags after I talk to Dean."

"Okay," she nodded, instantly dropping her bag. She instead began fumbling for her keys. "I'll see you inside." Both men smiled fondly at her unusually sleepy state as she hurried up the walk and let herself into the house, leaving the door ajar for Sam.

With a gusty sigh, Sam turned back to his brother, who was waiting, with a guarded look on his face. "What'd you need to talk to me about?"

Sam gave a small start and then grinned. "It's nothing bad," he assured his sibling. "Just this." Sam reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the cash he'd just withdrawn from the bank and held it out to his brother.

"What's this?" Dean muttered without taking it.

"Early Christmas gift, from us," Sam chuckled extending his fingers. Dean took the cash, still puzzled. "For tires, for the car," Sam explained further and then Dean grinned ruefully.

"Yeah, the treads getting a little worn on the back end," he admitted.

"Well, if you'd quit peeling out..." Sam offered sarcastically and then laughed at the defensive glare Dean leveled at him. "And don't worry," he continued, "Max'll still have plenty of things for you, knowing your fetish for wrapping paper."

"Not a fetish," Dean grinned wolfishly. "I just like unwrapping things."

"And I'm sure it's not limited to paper," Sam chuckled and Dean nodded slowly, smirking all the while. "But anyways," Sam continued, opening his car door, "Max figured you'd want to take care of the car sooner rather than later." He climbed out to remove their two bags from the back seat. After he'd grabbed them, he pushed both doors shut and then leaned over to say goodbye.

"Well, thanks for this," Dean bobbed his head once, gesturing to the money. "And thank Max for me."

"Thank her yourself," Sam smirked. "I'm pretty sure you'll be getting a phone call at some point tomorrow evening." Dean laughed. With Sam's surprise, that was pretty much a given.

"You know, she takes damn good care of us," he noted.

"Yeah she does," Sam agreed.

"You know," Dean drawled again hesitantly, "the three of us make a pretty good team." Sam just smiled and then bit his lower lip.

"Make sure you let us know what you find."

"I will," Dean assured him.

"Maybe," Sam sighed and glanced quickly away and then back. "Maybe after things settle down, we could meet up with you someplace."

A surprised grin covered Dean's face. He really hadn't been expecting that. Of course, given their schedules, it was something of a long shot, but the offer was appreciated.

"That sounds good," Dean agreed and then gave a small jerk of his head. "Now get in there and take care of your girl."

Sam's lips broadened into a grin that told Dean that he planned to do exactly that. His younger brother stood up straight and patted the car once and slung the duffel bags over one shoulder and stepped back. With a slightly wave, Dean put the Impala in gear and pulled away. He made a discreet glance back and saw Sam hurrying up the walkway. Dean pulled around the corner at the end of the block, slowly counting the one hundred dollar bills that Sam and Max had graced him with. He let out a low whistle as he tallied it all up. There was plenty there for a full set, spare included and gas money to boot. Folding up the money, Dean started to accelerate down the street. But as he went to put the money in his coat pocket, his hand encountered something unexpected and forgotten.

"Damn it," he muttered as he felt Max's cell phone nestled there. In all the excitement and hurry to get away, he'd forgotten to give it back to her. He exchanged the cash for the phone in his pocket. Heaving a sigh, he looked in consternation at the item. She was definitely going to need it back. Dean grinned suddenly. Especially, he told himself, if she was going to call him with exciting news. Of course, she'd have to call his back up cell phone, since his primary had been left behind in the police station in Jericho. Dean made a tight u-turn and headed back to the house. There was a spot on the street opposite, a few houses away and Dean pulled in. He left the car running, since he'd only be a moment. He jogged across the quiet, darkened street, deciding that he's just pop the phone into the mail box. It wouldn't be a problem at all to call the house line first thing in the morning and let them know where the phone was. And maybe wish Sam good luck.

Feeling good, Dean started up the walkway. But just feet from the porch, Dean felt the feeling evaporate quicker than it had come, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. Some strange preternatural sense screamed at him, chafed at his insides. He caught a whiff of a scent carried on the breeze and panic gripped his heart, especially when coupled with the terrified yell of his brother, calling to Max.

Dean vaulted up the steps, phone forgotten, the door locked. Two powerful, adrenaline fueled kicks and the simple bolt locks splintered out of the frame. As he raced down the hallway, knowing instinctively where his family was, his father's warning rang through his mind.

"_We're ALL in danger."_

And like a damn fool, Dean had concentrated on one thing and one thing only. Finding John.

His nose was assaulted by the acrid scent of fire as he skidded to a halt in the doorway of the master bedroom. Sam was on the bed, staring up in horror at the ceiling as flames curled downward. Dean's eyes flickered upwards, his heart clenched with fear at what he'd find. The sickened whimper when he finally recognized what he'd refused to admit to until he had the visual proof, echoed Sam's heartrending cry. Whispers from long ago, half buried and forgotten, his father's voice screamed at him again, charging Dean once more with his life's mission. _Protect Sammy!_

Seeing the danger to Sam galvanized Dean to action. He leapt forward, yanking his brother from the bed. He had to save Sammy. He wrestled his furiously protesting, fighting brother down the hall, silently echoing the cries for Max in his heart.

Once upon the lawn, both brothers collapsed, watching in horror as their lives were decimated yet again.

Several hours later, Dean stood, just another face in the crowd that watched the firefighters that tried to keep control of that which was out of control. All around him, the shocked cries that had now become whispers echoed in his ears. Whispered despair, memories, sympathy, it all seeped through the shell of numbness that he'd tried to surround himself with.

His family was his whole life. Never once had he considered how loved and needed Max and Sam had been to other people. The words of one woman echoed in his mind, her conviction in saying it while she held a slumbering child, resonating within him.

_A light had gone out in the world. _

Dean had always known that the world was a dark, bleak, desolate place. But there had always been a little light somewhere. And now it was gone. And he didn't know how he, how Sam... how they were going to survive this.

His brother brought forcefully to the forefront of his mind, Dean turned to locate Sam. After calling emergency services, he'd dragged d Sam further away, to the Impala, fearing that he'd have to knock Sam out to save his life. But when the windows blew out in the bedroom, all the life seemed to fade from him, as if the unalterable truth had finally hit him. Max was gone and there was nothing they could do to save her. Dean felt a momentary surge of panic at not finding Sam where he'd left him. But he noticed immediately that the trunk of the car was open and a figure was standing there. Within two steps, he'd realized it was Sam. The cautionary diatribe that instinctively sprang to mind was pushed away. No one but Sam was by the car. Everyone, firefighters, police officers, gawking neighbors, all were giving him a wide berth, recognizing that the shock hadn't faded yet, was still too fresh.

Dean made his way over slowly, not wanting to draw unwanted attention. He paused, unsure, hesitant. He had no clue what to say. He didn't know if he could even speak. He watched Sammy carefully, trying to gage his next move. Sam was checking over a sawed off shotgun. His eyes flickered to Dean, the briefest, most infinitesimal acknowledgment. Dean's eyes dropped as a ragged sigh escaped his little brother. But somehow, Sam managed to rein it in. A glint of something caught Dean's eye and he recognized, after a moment, the chain and ring he'd given Sam earlier. Joining it now was the ring that Sam had bought for Max. It seemed appropriate somehow, those two rings, laying against Sam's heart. Dean was startled when Sam threw the shotgun into the trunk.

And announcing in a voice he'd never heard from his brother before,

"We got work to do."


End file.
